#I took these photos on my phone FROM my laptop

[thoughtfulfiction]

Social Media QB

Author’s note: reposting my old work on this side blog! Let me know if you’d like to read a specific one. Thank you for reading!

The reputation of the Chargers social media team was unmatched. They are known for being funny and up to date on all memes and pop culture references while also showcasing players’ personalities. That alone made you apply and this past year on the job had really been a once in a lifetime experience. Working with Megan and the crew was a daily adventure and you were becoming more and more comfortable calling the guys your friends. It even got to a point where you didn’t even call them by their names anymore.

Quentin was usually just “Q.” JK was always “J’Kaylin”, Derwin was “3” and your favorite nickname was definitely calling Justin “Sunshine.” At first it was a Remember the Titans reference but it became a lifestyle. Everything and everyone revolves around the sun and that’s exactly what it felt like when you were at work. All of the players were important and special but you could just feel the energy in the room shift when Justin was there. It was palpable, it almost took your breath away sometimes.

Off camera he was goofy, funny and had this uncanny ability to make the world stand still for a bit, even just for a few fleeting moments where it felt like you two were the only ones in the room. But then reality would hit and you were reminded that you work for the team and he’d never see you in that way, he was just nice to everyone he encountered. But on camera? It was all fun and games. There was a running joke, mostly based on his real feelings, that Justin hated cameras. He couldn’t stand being the center of attention or having people perceive him so he avoided the social media team altogether when phones were pointed in his direction. 

But sometimes, a rarity, you were able to get him on camera, even if it was just for a split second. The two of you reviewed the questions he was going to be asked before their Hot Ones appearance and there was ALWAYS a discussion, more like subtle begging if you all were going to have him participate in any content.

“We need Justin for this new segment we’re doing, so you’re gonna have to talk to him.” Megan sighs, grabbing her Stanley cup that was sitting on the counter. She’d just finished editing a video where she and her assistant put fart spray on the tiny mic and could still smell the rancid scent until she grabbed some Lysol spray to de-funk the place.

You were going through photos taken during practice earlier that morning and deciding which ones to post and without looking up you asked her, “why do I have to do it?”

Lorren and Allie giggle in the corner, shaking their heads. “You cannot be serious right now y/n,” Lorren gives you a pointed look.

“What?”

“We all know you and Justin have a thing for each other. Even if you won’t admit to us…or yourself. It’s pretty obvious.”

You finally raise your head up from your laptop, staring at them while also wracking your brain trying to figure out when your innocent crush had become so painfully obvious. If the girls knew, then Justin had probably somehow caught on and the thought of that made you want to dig a hole right outside on the practice field and never come out. “Is—am I that easy to read?”

“No one blames you,” Megan runs a loving hand on your shoulder. “And I’m sure you’ve been trying so hard to hide your feelings that you haven’t noticed that he’s doing an even worse job of hiding his massive crush on you.”

The look on your face sends the room into a fit of laughter. “We’re being serious. The way he looks at you and acts around you. Anyone can see he’s into you friend.”

You weren’t convinced, “I need an example.”

“Okay fine,” Lorren stands up to prepare a demonstration. “He wasn’t ready to put the mics on when he was mic’d up until you walked over and helped him get the mic in the perfect spot in his pads. And then he wore the friendship bracelet for six weeks because you handed it to him.”

Allie pipes up to put in her two cents. “And let’s not forget when he had you driving him around the golf tournament and kicked Zion to the curb. There’s no way all of those are just a coincidence.”

“Fine. I’ll go ask him if he’ll shoot the video for us but I’m not going to lose my job because of a meaningless crush on the starting quarterback.”

You waited around for the guys to leave treatment after practice and caught up with him on his way out. “Hey Sunshine, quick question for you.”

His cheeks turn a light shade of pink and he gives you a small tight-lipped smile. “What’s up?”

“I need you to do me a huge favor and be in this tik tok. It’s a short game and it’ll only take like 15 minutes.”

His deadpan face and disappointed dad sigh has you practically begging, saying “please” in your finest sing-song tone.

“Fine, I’ll do it.” You knew he’d crack, he always did. “On one condition. You also have to participate.”

You hold your hand out and he engulfs it with his much larger one. “You’ve got yourself a deal Herbert.”

“Okay the rules of the game are simple,” Megan begins from behind her phone screen before hitting record, “we’re going to give you these Canadian snacks and you’ll rate them on a scale from 1 to 10. One being it’s awful I’ll never touch that again and 10 being a solid snack that you’d eat everyday if given the opportunity.”

You and Justin nod, diving in on everything from the ketchup chips to the toffee. The video didn’t take long as promised and the quarterback went about the rest of his day with no further distractions.

In your office a few days later on the team’s off day, you were contemplating your life. Maybe you should take a step back from him so people don't get the wrong idea. Sure, your coworkers were convinced the crush was mutual but what if he was just being nice? He was always so focused on football and making the most out of every opportunity. Why in the world would he waste time flirting with a social media manager? It just made no sense. Instead of continuing to run a million imaginary scenarios in your mind you packed up your stuff and tried heading out to the parking lot. Even after all this time you still struggled to maneuver all the twists and turns of the building and somehow found yourself walking past the quarterback room. You intended to just keep walking but he was in there alone and called out your name when he saw you.

“What are you doing here? I didn’t think anyone would be in the building today.” His bright eyes staring down at you made your heart feel like it was beating out of your chest. You desperately needed to get it together.

“I came in to finish up a few things but I’m heading out now. What are you doing? I think you’ve watched enough film to last you a couple lifetimes.” That gets a light chuckle out of him and he shakes his head, the two of you knowing that his quest for perfection would never allow him to believe he’s watched enough film. “Thank you for shooting that video the other day. The fans are gonna love it, they’re always begging us to get you on camera.”

“No problem, anything for you.” He clears his throat after whispering the last part, desperately hoping that you didn’t hear it. Even though you definitely did. You should go home for the day and leave him alone in the office so he can get back to work. You should stop staring at his lips that look so soft and just begging to be kissed. He should turn around and get back to the playbook and the computer but here he is, standing still, right in front of you.

You’re just there, waiting for someone to rip the carpet out from under you, to fall on your face, for someone to tell you that this isn’t actually happening. The space between your bodies diminishes significantly, so much so that you can smell the Dr. Squatch Birchwood Breeze radiating off of him. It’s intoxicating and you swallow the fear in your gut and ignore all of the common sense thoughts plaguing your mind, allowing you to feel.

The kiss is tentative at first, he pulls back slightly, whispering if it’s okay to keep going as you feel his breath against your lips. You don’t respond but instead pull him in closer, hearing a satisfied husky moan from him as he allows your tongue access to his. His right palm rests against your cheek until he’s tilting your head up ever so slightly to deepen the embrace and he pulls you in even closer, holding on for dear life while closing and locking the door behind you. It was so much more than he imagined, these feelings that he’d been pushing aside were being confronted and magnified by the second. This innocent crush that you had on him were genuine, real feelings that created a deep ache in your bones, actively being soothed with his hands all over you as the two of you made out like helpless teenagers.

You didn’t think you’d have the strength to tear yourself away from him…until his phone rings. He ignores it the first time but it’s all you can think about by the fifth ring.

“Answer it,” you whisper breathlessly and you can feel him hesitating to pry himself away from you. The heat that was radiating off of his body that you felt being so close to him sends shivers down your spine at the sudden distance. A thousand unspoken apologies are painted on his face as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He keeps the call short and sweet but the look of devastation is clear when he hangs up. “You have to go don’t you?”

He nods. “I’m so sorry. We can—we need to talk about this I know. And I promise we will. I just—I need to take care of this.” He doesn’t want to leave, not like this. Even if he knows you understand. Justin presses a kiss to the side of your head and whispers another “I’m sorry” leaving you in the room to think about what just happened.

You walk around the empty parking lot until you reach your car, letting out a deep sigh at the thought of what the conversation with him is going to look like after this. You need to be mentally prepared for good news, bad news and everything in between.

He is the sun after all. And sometimes when you stand too close, you might get burned. And maybe, just maybe, you’d avoid the burn altogether and bask in the warmth as long as you can.

[sour-snail]

I WOULD GIVE MY FIRSTBORN CHILD FOR MORE DENDE CONTENT P L E A S E

[pendularium]

"Are we still sisters?"

arcane (2021-2024) // the great gatsby by f. scott fitzgerald

[snakesandstone]

✍ the thirteenth doctor or your version of Angrboda, three cheers for the girlies <3

The girlies ever!!! I have not watched thirteens run yet but from what I gather this is how it goes

[snixx]

people who come to me the night before an assignment is due and expect me to either send them my code i spent 12 hours working on or sit next to them and verify each line of code as they write it i hope you die bye <3

[fozmeadows]

the older I get, the more the technological changes I've lived through as a millennial feel bizarre to me. we had computers in my primary school classroom; I first learned to type on a typewriter. I had a cellphone as a teenager, but still needed a physical train timetable. my parents listened to LP records when I was growing up; meanwhile, my childhood cassette tape collection became a CD collection, until I started downloading mp3s on kazaa over our 56k modem internet connection to play in winamp on my desktop computer, and now my laptop doesn't even have a disc tray. I used to save my word documents on floppy discs. I grew up using the rotary phone at my grandparents' house and our wall-connected landline; my mother's first cellphone was so big, we called it The Brick. I once took my desktop computer - monitor, tower and all - on the train to attend a LAN party at a friend's house where we had to connect to the internet with physical cables to play together, and where one friend's massive CRT monitor wouldn't fit on any available table. as kids, we used to make concertina caterpillars in class with the punctured and perforated paper strips that were left over whenever anything was printed on the room's dot matrix printer, which was outdated by the time I was in high school. VHS tapes became DVDs, and you could still rent both at the local video store when I was first married, but those shops all died out within the next six years. my facebook account predates the iphone camera - I used to carry around a separate digital camera and manually upload photos to the computer in order to post them; there are rolls of undeveloped film from my childhood still in envelopes from the chemist's in my childhood photo albums. I have a photo album from my wedding, but no physical albums of my child; by then, we were all posting online, and now that's a decade's worth of pictures I'd have to sort through manually in order to create one. there are video games I tell my son about but can't ever show him because the consoles they used to run on are all obsolete and the games were never remastered for the new ones that don't have the requisite backwards compatibility. I used to have a walkman for car trips as a kid; then I had a discman and a plastic hardshell case of CDs to carry around as a teenager; later, a friend gave my husband and I engraved matching ipods as a wedding present, and we used them both until they stopped working; now they're obsolete. today I texted my mother, who was born in 1950, a tiktok upload of an instructional video for girls from 1956 on how to look after their hair and nails and fold their clothes. my father was born four years after the invention of colour televison; he worked in radio and print journalism, and in the years before his health declined, even though he logically understood that newspapers existed online, he would clip out articles from the physical paper, put them in an envelope and mail them to me overseas if he wanted me to read them. and now I hold the world in a glass-faced rectangle, and I have access to everything and ownership of nothing, and everything I write online can potentially be wiped out at the drop of a hat by the ego of an idiot manchild billionaire. as a child, I wore a watch, but like most of my generation, I stopped when cellphones started telling us the time and they became redundant. now, my son wears a smartwatch so we can call him home from playing in the neighbourhood park, and there's a tanline on his wrist ike the one I haven't had since the age of fifteen. and I wonder: what will 2030 look like?

[pathologicalreid]

extraordinary measures | s.r.

in which your life hangs in the balance after a brutal attack, and Spencer has to hold himself together for the sake of you and your baby

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: fetal abduction, potentially inaccurate medical information, entirely from spencer's pov, very violent crime, mom!reader, hospitals, medication, spencer lashes out at jj, rossi's son. word count: 4.41k a/n: the people said dad!spencer angst and i delivered. also! trying something new with formatting my posts. i pay for canva pro and need to get my money's worth.

The hospital staff had moved them into a conference room, giving the BAU more space to spread out – and so Spencer’s pacing wouldn’t disturb the other people in the waiting room. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. Not to us. Not to me. Not to her.

The statistics on fetal abduction were alarming. Before today, there had only been thirteen cases since Spencer had joined the BAU. Today alone, there had been two.

“Excuse me,” an unfamiliar voice said, followed by two knocks on the door, “I’m so sorry, but have you had the chance to fill out some of the forms that we gave you?”

Answering for him, Penelope grabbed the clipboard off of the table and passed it to the nurse, “The insurance card is on the top,” she informed the nurse. Nervously, the blonde looked between the medical professional and Spencer, “Is there any update?”

The nurse cringed slightly, “I don’t have one. I’ll see if they can send someone to talk to you.” She nodded assuredly before peeling out of the room.

“Can I get you anything?” Garcia asked helplessly. He had already been given tea, water, coffee, and a sandwich, but he didn’t want any of it.

Shaking his head numbly, Spencer dragged his hands down his face as he replayed the events of this morning in his head.

He wasn’t even supposed to be working, you were due any day now, but Emily had called him with the case and gave him the choice of working. He was supposed to go with you to the check-up, but you had encouraged him to go save a life.

The woman who had been found this morning had her abdomen crudely cut open and her baby was born via a botched cesarean section, but her baby was too premature and didn’t make it. They were both found in an alley near the hospital by a garbage man. Then, while he and Luke were at the medical examiner’s office, his phone started to ring.

You had been discovered, bleeding out, outside of your obstetrician’s office, and if you hadn’t been so close to a building full of doctors, you probably wouldn’t have made it as far as surgery right now. The fact that you had been brought to surgery should have been enough to give him hope, but he hasn’t been raised to be hopeful, he was raised to be pragmatic. The reality of the situation was that in cases of fetal abduction, the mothers rarely made it out the other side.

He was left with Garcia to keep him company, she stayed as a watchdog, mainly looking through traffic footage on her laptop as she made sure Spencer didn’t go entirely off the rails. “You’re going to burn a hole in the floor,” she said offhandedly, begging Spencer to just sit down for a moment.

With a huff, he took a seat next to Penelope, leaning his head back on the taupe drywall, “I don’t know what to do,” he confessed.

“We’re going to wait, we are not going to catastrophize, and we will listen to any and all updates that the doctors give us,” she said determinedly, nodding her head as she did so. “We only know what we know and assuming the worst will just lead to feeling worse.”

Closing his eyes, he agreed, listening to the bustle of the hospital from inside the secluded, makeshift waiting space. He wished he knew more about your status when you came in, there were the crime scene photos – which Penelope was under strict orders not to show him – and a quick mention from a resident about blood loss, but nothing else.

“Dr. Reid?” A new voice said, snapping him out of his stupor as he rose to his feet, staring at the doctor who came in with his scrub cap on, “I’m afraid there isn’t much news. Things are still touch and go. They’re hopeful that they can get the bleeding under control, once they do that, we’ll know more. I’ll come out and let you know, alright?”

With the doctor leaving, Garcia reopened her laptop, “You see? We can’t assume the worst because we just don’t know enough yet.”

“Garcia,” he interrupted, hopeful for just a moment of silence to digest the new information – if you could even call it that.

Nodding succinctly, she returned to her work, “Right, okay.”

With the arrival of JJ, Penelope left to check in at the office, and since a profiler was bound to know more information, he asked JJ for an update. His baby had to be almost three hours old now, and he knew nothing about them.

He was left disappointed, there was no information on the UnSub or the baby, “What’s the point of it anyway?”

“Everyone is working on it, Spence. No one is going to rest until this case is closed,” JJ tried to reassure him.

Spencer wasn’t sure he was ever truly going to rest again, “Where is someone supposed to go with a newborn baby? The umbilical cord has to be still attached.” Statistically, women were more likely to commit cesarean abductions, and they usually did so after the loss of their own child or because they told someone they were pregnant and needed to produce a baby. “No one can tell me anything about my child, JJ, don’t you understand that? Can’t you try to understand how that feels?”

Bracing herself, JJ nodded, “You’re angry, I get it, you-“

“No, you don’t. My wife is bleeding out in surgery, and I have no fucking clue where our baby is. I have never met them. I don’t know if I have a son or a daughter or if they’re alive and you have the nerve to tell me that you ‘get it’?” He peered over at the blonde profiler. You should’ve been the first person to hold your baby, and instead, you might never live to find out what happened to you.

She was silent for a moment, “You’re right. I- I can’t even begin to process what you’re feeling right now, but all we can do is keep working on the case.”

Dropping his head in his hands, Spencer shook his head, “Then go work on the case,” he insisted, “I don’t… I need to be alone right now.”

Just as the four-hour mark approached, the glass door opened again, and David Rossi walked in.

“Are you here to lecture me?” Spencer asked, his voice raspy from crying in the solitude of the room, he wondered if JJ had told everyone how he lashed out at her.

Crossing one leg over the other, Rossi answered, “Nope,” he said, popping the last syllable. “I’m just here to sit and wait, same as you, kid.”

Nodding, Spencer leaned his head back and closed his eyes as a protection against the fluorescent lights of the hospital, “How did you manage?”

There were some things – life events – that were left unspoken in the BAU. Traumas that people didn’t want uncovered, horrors that the team didn’t need to relive, but Spencer needed answers, and this was the only way he could think to get them. “Manage what?”

“Losing your son,” he answered, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he kept his eyes closed, wondering if he too would lose a child. Birth and death within the same day.

Clearing his throat, Rossi took a moment before responding, and Spencer wasn’t sure if he was appalled at the question or if he simply wasn’t sure how to respond, “Well, I’m not sure I ever really did. Not for a long time, at least,” he admitted.

Digesting the information, Spencer shifted in his seat, “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. Everyone just keeps telling me to wait, but…” he chuckled to himself, “Y/N always jokes that if patience is the companion of wisdom, then I have to be the exception.”

He had always been told to wait. Wait for his turn. Wait for the perfect person to show up. He had waited, and he had gotten you, but all of that waiting had led him here. In this beige room where he had signed papers asking doctors to use extraordinary measures to try and save your life.

“Dr. Reid?” One of the doctors from earlier called his name, knocking on the glass door. Instinctively, Spencer stood up, wiping his hands on his pants and looking at the doctor expectantly, “Oh, please,” the doctor said, “Take a seat.”

Hesitantly, Spencer lowered himself back down into the hospital chair, he couldn’t help but feel like that was a bad sign.

“All things considered, your wife is very, very lucky,” the doctor informed him, “She’s not fully out of the woods yet, but they’re setting her up in recovery right now. I’m just waiting on a message from my colleague, and then I’ll be able to bring you up to see her.”

A flurry of questions flew through his mind at once, “What are you still concerned about?” He asked, leaning over and resting his elbows on his knees.

Nodding, the doctor continued, “Y/N lost a lot of blood in the attack. When you factor in the trauma of having a baby and a four-hour surgery, there’s a lot of healing that has to happen, and right now she doesn’t have the strength for it.” His phone chimed, and Spencer jolted, trying not to get his hopes up if it wasn’t about you, “Come with me,” the doctor said.

Rossi offered to let the rest of the team know and Spencer rambled off a random confirmation as he followed the doctor through the doorway, feeling like he was floating. As they walked through the hospital, Spencer grew more and more anxious.

Your hand was cold. In fact, your hand was so cold that Spencer asked the doctor to turn the volume on your vital monitor up so that he could have the constant reassurance that you were alive.

Blood was being transfused still, he had already forgotten the doctor’s estimate on just how much blood you had lost, but if he had the urge to read through your medical chart, he was sure he could find out. The only problem was, ever since the doctor left, he hadn’t been able to do anything except stare.

Every once in a while, he pinched your index finger, testing the capillary refill time out of his own morbid curiosity while blood was being returned to your body. Agents and officers stood outside of your hospital room in a steady rotation. The BAU wasn’t sure if your life was still in danger, but they weren’t willing to take any risks.

There were countless law enforcement personnel involved in this case now, if not directly investigating the case, they were at least contributing to the search. The Manassas Field Office, DC Metro, the Maryland Police – they were all out there looking. Out the window, he could see news reporters gathering out front to start their afternoon broadcasts.

It had been four hours. Four hours and there was still no word on the baby or the UnSub. The baby would need to eat soon, and Spencer found himself depending on the UnSub to have had the forethought to take care of the newborn.

Every couple of minutes, you would mumble something in your sleep, and he willed you to stay asleep. Selfishly, he wanted you to stay asleep until he knew the baby was safe – until he knew he could have something good to tell you.

Penelope was stationed right outside the door. She likely thought he hadn’t noticed her return, but the clicking of her keyboard gave her away.

Infrequently, his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he tried not to concern himself with it. Garcia had made contact with your mom, being sure to reach out to your family before any other news hit the airwaves.

He adjusted the way the nasal cannula rested on your face before bringing your hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles and resting your cold fingers against his cheek, as if his face had the capacity to warm your whole body. Briefly, he wondered if the team would be willing to have a desk agent bring you a blanket from home.

The team would probably find a way to get him a helicopter if he requested it.

Flowers and cards flowed into your hospital room, arriving from people who knew you to people who had seen your story on the news. He had to look away when a small stuffed elephant was delivered by a nurse, knowing that the baby it belonged to was nowhere to be found.

Much to his surprise, he looked away from the stuffed animal just to find you looking back at him. The sorrow in your eyes a staggering reflection of that which could be found in his own. One glance at you and he knew that there was no need for him to break the news to you – you were well aware.

Spencer remained wholly silent as a slew of medical professionals filtered in and out of the room, a cacophony of directives and questions sent your way as tears filled your waterline. He captured your hand in both of his, holding your hand like it was a lifeline to everything he knew as the truth. He was here, you were here, and you were both alive. Tethered to you in the woven web of life, he refused to falter. Not now. Not when you needed him the most.

He answered the questions that you didn’t know the answers to and watched, tight-lipped, as your doctor kept you informed. Dr. Lasher was picking and choosing from your chart, telling you anything pertinent, and leaving out anything that she thought could wait for later.

Once the doctor had cleared through an extensive list of maladies, everyone let you have the room. “Darling,” he whispered, reaching a hand out to adjust the way your hospital gown rested on your shoulder, covering some of the exposed wires.

“There are no leads?” You asked tentatively, the pain in your voice exacerbated by the swelling caused by the breathing tube you’d had during surgery. Your eyes were glassy, and Spencer didn’t know if it was from sorrow or pain or fear. It was a question he was afraid to ask.

He shook his head, “Not yet, but everyone’s looking,” he fed you the same reassurances that had been given to him. The same reassurances that he hadn’t believed.

You moved your hands, laying your palms flat on the sterile white sheets and starting to push yourself up, only to be met with Spencer’s hands guiding you back down to the pillows. “I’ve gotta go,” you mumbled, “I wanna help. Spence, please let me help.” Fresh tears welled in your eyes as you looked at him in desperation.

The way your bottom lip quivered was what broke him, he tilted his head to the side, “You can help just fine from right here, okay?” He looked out into the hallway, wondering which member of the team was around for you to talk to. “I’ll be right back,” he told you, squeezing your hand before retreating to the hallway, never letting you out of his line of sight.

“Hey,” Penelope greeted, the compassion in her voice giving him pause, “How is she?”

Exhausted, terrified, in pain – all applicable at the moment. Spencer thought about answering for a moment before skipping Garcia’s question entirely, “Who’s around for a cognitive?”

You didn’t quite have the energy for a full interview, but you were so adamant about helping that he couldn’t refuse you, not today. “JJ’s one floor up, do you want me to call her for you?”

He thought about it for a moment, he hadn’t handled his last interaction with JJ with the most care, but you needed someone to talk to and it couldn’t be him. “Yeah,” he nodded, “Please.”

Spencer sat on the edge of your bed, smoothing your hair as he tried to comfort you. In all of the time he’d known you, he’d never need you so defeated.

Not much came out during your cognitive with JJ, either there was a mental block in the way or you hadn’t seen much when you were attacked. Whichever one it was, Spencer was fighting himself internally on whether or not he should be thankful.

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer murmured, keeping his voice low as you fought off sleep. “Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he cooed, “You need to rest.”

You fought sleep with everything you had in you, which wasn’t much anymore. The cognitive interview had gone too long. Your nurse was the one who put her foot down and ended it, even when you wanted to keep going. “It’s not fair,” you cried, slow tears making their way down your cheeks.

Very slowly, Spencer could feel his heart breaking as your exhaustion and desolation worked together to make you as miserable as possible, “I know, lovey. I know,” he assured you as tears filled his eyes.

Glassy eyes looked up at him, “I just wanted to be a mom,” you whispered, your speech slurred with sleep.

Letting his own tears fall to the white sheets of your hospital bed, Spencer nodded, “You are a mom.”

He didn’t add anything. He didn’t have it in him to make a grandiose speech about how you would always be your baby’s mother, and, luckily, he didn’t need to. Your eyes finally fell shut, final tears falling from your face as Spencer found himself grateful that sleep finally took you.

Never leaving your side, Spencer pulled the chair back up next to you, resting his chin on your bed's armrest and watching you sleep. Very slowly, color was beginning to return to your face, yet you still looked so different from when he had left the house that morning.

Unsure how long it had been, Spencer shot up straight when Penelope came rushing to the doorway, placing a finger to his lips, he nodded toward your sleeping form. Even so, the technical analyst waved him over.

Carefully, he slipped his hand out of yours and walked around your bed to Penelope, “What is it?”

Tears filled the blonde’s eyes as she looked up at him, she put both of her hands on his upper arms and cried, “They found your baby. It- they’re pulling up to the ambulance bay right now.”

Spencer’s lips parted in shock, having fully prepared himself for the day to end in undeniable heartbreak. “Are- is the baby okay?”

Penelope nodded, “They’re going up to the NICU right now to get checked out but apparently the EMTs said the baby looks completely unharmed.”

Turning to look at you, still asleep on the bed, Spencer gave Penelope a quick embrace before returning to your bedside, “Sweetheart,” he whispered, trying to wake you up from sleep that you still needed. “Honey,” he said, gently cupping your cheek with his hands as your eyes fluttered open.

You hummed groggily, squinting up at him under the fluorescence of the hospital.

“The baby’s here,” he murmured to you, making sure you didn’t jump up at his words. “They’re headed up to the NICU for a quick check, and-“

“Go,” you cut him off, your eyes wide and full of tears. “Please go hold them, Spence,” you cried, voice rough with sleep.

His shoulders slouched forward slightly, looking between you and Penelope in the doorway, “I’ll stay here,” Penelope offered immediately. “You go, I’ll stay.”

You nodded up at him, closing your eyes as he bent forward to press a kiss to your hairline. “I love you,” you breathed, placing a hand on your chest as if it would slow your racing heart.

“I love you too,” he responded before stepping out of the hospital room, following the directions that Penelope had given him in order to get up to the NICU.

Adrenaline made his stomach churn as he approached the NICU, wondering what he’d say to the people there until someone recognized him as The Dad. He still had to scrub his hands, but they let him through until he saw the bassinet. Even more, he saw the tiny baby kicking its legs inside of the acrylic container.

Emily stood by on high alert, ready to pounce on anyone who even looked at the baby funny, and Spencer just couldn’t stop staring. “Come here,” one of the NICU nurses said to him, obviously having been brought up to speed on the situation. With a smile on her face, she told him, “It’s a girl.”

“A girl,” he breathed, walking right up to the side of the bassinet.

The nurse nodded and adjusted the hat on her head, just slightly too big for the newborn’s head, “If you want, we can get you set up in a chair here, and you can give her a bottle.”

“Please,” he responded, earning another smile from the nurse, who had him take the crying baby in his arms before handing him the prepared bottle.

It broke his heart to watch how quickly she took to the bottle; he still wasn’t sure if she had eaten anything until this. He knew the nipple wouldn’t let her take in too much at a time, but in his subconscious, he was still worried about it being too much for her.

He rocked gently, “Hi, honey,” he cooed down at her.

“She’s a good eater,” the nurse observes, writing something down on a piece of paper. “We’ll keep an eye on her for just a little while, but we know how badly she needs to get down to her mama.”

Setting the now empty bottle down, Spencer looked up at the nurse, “Is she okay?”

The nurse nodded at his concern, “She’s on the small size, but she’s full term. Of course, not everything is going to be noticeable right away, but we did a full newborn exam on her and all of the tests say she’s a perfectly healthy baby.” She looked on as Spencer gently cupped the baby’s head, “Does she have a name?”

You and Spencer had made a deal, he would pick a boy’s name, and you would pick a girl’s name. Smiling softly, he murmured her name to her for the first time, “Genevieve,” he answered. A big name for such a small baby, maybe, but it was the name you had chosen.

He started making his way back down to you, feeling like he was floating through the taupe hallways of the hospital before he finally made it back to your room. Penelope excused herself when he emerged in the hallway.

“Spence,” you whispered, looking up at him with hope in your eyes for the first time since you had woken up after surgery.

Smiling at you, he sat on the edge of your bed, “Five pounds and fifteen ounces. Seventeen and a half inches long. Perfectly healthy.” He glanced behind him as he heard the wheels of the bassinet coming toward your room, turning back to watch your reaction as you saw your baby for the first time.

He was glad for his eidetic memory, he’d never want to forget the way your face lit up with recognition, “Oh, a girl.”

With the baby settled on your chest, there was nothing better for the two of you to do than watch her sleep. Every once in a while, she’d coo or squawk and immediately capture your every attention all over again. “How are you feeling?” Spencer asked you. The blood transfusions had been completed, leaving you on a course of broad-spectrum antibiotics, fluids, and lots of pain medication – two of which prevented you from breastfeeding. Although, because of her size and traumatic birth, the NICU doctor suggested that some formula would help her grow properly.

You hummed contentedly, “Tired. I hurt just about everywhere,” you admitted, not taking your eyes off of your newborn. “I’m so… just grateful,” you whispered, “Is that odd?”

“No,” he shook his head, “I know exactly what you mean.” For as terrible and horrifying as the entire ordeal was, it could’ve been much worse. He almost lost both of his girls in one day.

“Does the team want to meet her?” You asked, worried about entertaining guests with the baby.

Spencer chuckled softly, keeping his index finger pointed within Genevieve’s reach, testing her palmar reflex, “I’m sure they do, but we’ll wait and see how you feel tomorrow and revisit. Okay?”

Your head bobbed in confirmation, watching as your daughter very slowly woke up, “Hi, Vie,” you greeted her quietly, gently rubbing her back with your fingertips. You didn’t have the strength to fully hold her, but she was more than happy to just lay on you, “Sweet, sleepy girl.”

“Do you want me to take her, and you can get some sleep?” Spencer offered, noticing the way you were trying to hide a yawn from him. “We aren’t going anywhere, we’ll stay right here in this chair,” he reassured you based on the apprehensive look you were giving him.

Slowly, you nodded, helping as best you could and pouting in sympathy when Genevieve – Vie – cried out at the sensation of being moved from her warm spot on her mother’s chest to the warm spot in her father’s arms. Thankfully, the newborn calmed down just as soon as Spencer settled her in his arms, “Don’t go,” you whispered, letting your eyes fall shut as you allowed sleep to wash over you.

He hummed, “We won’t,” he muttered in response.

Sleep took you with little resistance, leaving him with Genevieve in the silence of the hospital room – save for all of the machines that you were still hooked up to.

She wouldn’t be up for much longer herself – newborns spent most of their day sleeping – so Spencer took his opportunity to watch her eyes wander around the hospital room. “You can go back to sleep too, little love. I’ll watch over the both of you,” he spoke to her in a reverent tone and adjusted the hat on her head.  “I’ll keep you safe, Vie. No harm will come to you, not as long as I’m your dad.”

[requiemforthepoets]

lipstick kisses 𖦹 LN4

part 3 of dog dad lando series

PAIRING: lando norris x female!reader

SUMMARY: you would always get random cuteness aggression towards thor, but today, you might have smothered him too much, causing him to have lipstick kisses all over his face.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i wanted to post this first before i post the requests. if you have some request/prompts, feel free to send it and i’ll work on it. this is another one shot to the dog dad lando series, hope you’ll enjoy this one! :)

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

WARNINGS: not proofread, typos, cuteness aggression, all photos are grabbed from pinterest, and no use of y/n

The sound of your laptop closing echoed in the quiet apartment as you stretched, with your muscles relaxing after hours of your online meeting. It has been a very long day, but finally, you can unwind. With a sigh of content, you got up from your seat and changed from your formal attire to some comfortable clothes, which is one of Lando’s white shirts and some shorts. You quickly made your way to the living room, threw yourself on the couch and grabbing the remote, scrolling through Netflix until you landed on The Crown—your latest hyper fixation calling out for your name, and with Lando busy doing a stream with Max, the living room was yours.

Settling into the couch, you pulled a blanket over your lap, getting ready to immerse yourself in the drama unfolding on the screen. The room was dim, illuminated by the light from the lamp and the flickering light of the television. Not long after, Thor padded into the room, his fluffy white fur practically glowing in the low light. He jumped up onto the couch beside you, his big round eyes staring up at you as if asking to join in on your little Netflix binge.

You smiled, absentmindedly running your fingers through Thor’s soft fur while you kept your eyes glued on the screen. “Hey, buddy,” you whispered, feeling a wave of affection wash over you.

Your petting became more deliberate, and the next thing you knew, Thor was already nestled on your lap, gazing up at you with those impossibly cute eyes. Suddenly, you felt that all-too-familiar rush of cuteness aggression. The kind that made you want to squeal and squish something so adorable that it hurts.

“You’re just too cute, Thor,” you cooed, your voice rising an octave. You leaned down and began planting kisses all over his fluffy face. “How are you this stinkin’ cute?!” Another kiss. “How is this even allowed?” And another kiss. You were completely absorbed in showering your baby with affection, blissfully unaware of anything else.

Meanwhile, Lando had quietly stepped out of his streaming room for a quick break, intending to grab one of his drinks from the kitchen. As he walked towards the kitchen, he immediately paused when he caught sight of you on the couch. His lips quirking up in amusement, eyes sparkling as he took in the scene. There you were, in your mid-cuteness aggression, holding Thor and peppering him with kisses like you couldn’t help yourself.

Lando chuckled softly to himself, careful not to make any noise that would let you know of his presence. Instead of interrupting, he pulled out his phone and discreetly filmed the moment, capturing how you lovingly attack Thor with your kisses. Once he had enough footage, he saved it, already planning to post it on his Instagram story later. With a smirk, he quickly grabbed his drink and slipped back into his streaming room, shaking his head as he settled back into his gaming chair.

“You guys won’t believe what I just saw,” Lando said with a laugh, speaking to his chat. “She’s having a full-on cuteness meltdown over Thor in the living room. I’m pretty sure Thor’s drowning in kisses right now.”

Meanwhile, back in the living room, you finally pull away from Thor, your cuteness aggression fading as you let out a satisfied sigh. Thor jumped off from your lap, ready to do his own thing, and as you turned back to the screen, something caught your eye. You squinted at Thor’s fluffy white face. Lipstick marks. Everywhere. You burst out laughing at the result of your cuteness aggression, unable to control the giggles as you realized what you had done.

“Oh no, Thor!” You exclaimed, wiping away tears of laughter. You reached for the pet wipes on Thor’s cabinet of necessities. “Come back here! I need to clean you up, my love.” But before you could grab him, Thor was already scampering off—straight towards Lando’s streaming room.

“Thor!” You called, but he was too fast, already gone. You could only shake your head, stifling another round of laughter as you imagined Lando’s reaction when he saw Thor covered in your lipstick.

The sound of your voice calling for Thor grew closer just as he dashed into Lando’s streaming room, leaping onto Lando’s lap like it was his favorite spot in the world. Lando blinked in surprise, pulling his headphones slightly away from his ears and glancing down at Thor, now comfortably settled in his lap.

“Mate, what—?” Lando started, then burst out laughing as he finally took in Thor’s appearance. The once pristine, white snow fluff was now covered in your lipstick marks, a splotchy red all over his cute little face. Lando leaned forward to show Thor to his stream, his grin widening.

“Guys, look at this!” He chuckled, turning Thor toward the camera so everyone could see the incredible masterpiece. “Thor’s just been absolutely smothered by kisses. Someone’s been a little too affectionate.”

His chat immediately blew up with laughing emojis, hearts, and comments, with people demanding a closer look. Lando quickly grabbed his phone and took a photo, smiling as he saved it. He turned his attention back to the stream, about to read one of the chats, when he heard your voice calling out for This again from the hallway.

“Thor! Where are you? Get back here right now, I need to clean you up.”

Lando smirked, lifting Thor a little higher. “Looks like someone’s in trouble,” he said playfully to his audience, giving Thor a conspiratorial glance. “Running away from mummy again, huh? You sneaky sneaky little boy.”

Just as you stepped into the room, Lando shifted in his chair, still holding Thor in his lap. You stopped at the doorway, a sheepish smile on your face as you met Lando’s amused eyes. “He ran away,” you said, trying to sound stern but failing miserably as you grinned. “I need to clean him up before he gets lipstick all over the place, especially on our white couch.”

Lando laughed, scooping Thor up and holding him out toward you as if presenting a prized trophy. “You’ve made quite the mess on him,” he teased. “I was just showing everyone your handiwork.”

You sighed dramatically, walking over to take Thor from Lando’s arms. “Sorry, love, I just got carried away,” you sheepishly smiled. “I couldn’t help it. He’s just too cute.”

He smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Carried away? Babe, you practically covered the poor guy in kisses. He’s never going to live this down now,” he joked, gesturing to the chat that was still buzzing with laughter.

You rolled your eyes playfully as you bent down to scoop up Thor. “Come on, little troublemaker. Time to clean you up before you end up on Instagram again.”

Lando’s fans greeted you warmly as you appeared on the stream, and you waved at the camera with a smile. “Hello everyone! Hi, Max!” You said, catching sight of Max’s face in the corner of the stream.

Max grinned. “Oh hey, look who it is! Caught you in the act, huh?” He teased, leaning closer to his screen. “You know, I think Lando’s just jealous. He never gets that many kisses.”

Lando feigned shock, gasping dramatically. “Max! That’s not true! I always get plenty of kisses, thank you very much.”

You shook your head with a laugh, wiping the lipstick marks off Thor’s face. “Well, if he doesn’t stop teasing me, Thor might just get more than him from now on!”

The chat exploded with laughing emojis and comments again, with Max laughing in the background while Lando pretended to sulk. “Unbelievable. Betrayed by my own girlfriend and dog,” Lando muttered, but his smile betrayed his amusement.

Once Thor was all cleaned up, you gave him a final kiss on the top of his head—much to Lando’s fake protest—and set Thor back on the floor. “There, all better. No more lipstick adventures for you,” you said, watching as Thor trotted off, likely planning his next trouble.

Lando’s eyes followed Thor, then flickered back to you with a fond smile. “You’re the best, you know that?” He said softly, barely loud enough for the mic to pick up, but it was enough to make your heart flutter.

You shot him a wink and gave him a soft peck on the lips before backing out of the room. “Have fun with your stream. Don’t let Thor distract you again!” You called over your shoulder, leaving Lando grinning as he returned to his stream.

“Sorry, guys. Where were we? Oh, right. Max, let’s go.”

landonorris

liked by yourusername, yourbestfriend, maxfewtrell, and 2,748,937 others

tagged: yourusername

landonorris my girl suffered from cuteness aggression. what have you done to our son 🙂‍↕️ but don’t worry guys, he’s all good

view all 49,937 comments

yourusername our son is too cute, i can’t help it!!! 😔

landonorris he looked so traumatized by your cuteness aggression, love

yourusername he is NOT traumatized! in fact, he loved it very much

username1 thor living out his best life. getting all the love and kisses

username2 ma’am, you’re GLOWING

username3 can your man fight? yourusername

username4 PEAK CUTENESS

maxfewtrell just wait until you see the lipstick marks on lando next

landonorris you bet 😉

username5 THE LIPSTICK MARKS HEHDJSJS THE CUTENESS AGGRESSION MUST BE TOO MUCH LMAOOO

username6 can i just say that yourusername looks so fucking gorgeous???!!! lando, you lucky lucky lad

username7 thor is such a good boy 🥹

username8 look at that distinguished gentleman

yourbestfriend it’s one of those days, huh

landonorris oh yeah 😔

yourusername you can’t blame me for my cuteness aggression!!!!! not when we have a very very very cute son 😠😠😠

username9 idk if i’d be jealous of thor, yourusername, or lando tbh

username10 STOP THIS IS SO CUTE

username11 ma’am, we can see the level of cuteness aggression by lando’s video 😭😭😭

[ambers-archive]

got love struck ❤︎ ࿐ ۫ .˚ ✧ ˚　

in which spencer wants your anniversary to be perfect, but everyday is perfect with you. word count: 2.1k cw: purple scarf cameo, idiots in love, fluff, happy ending, established relationship. (english isn't my first language, minimal proofread!) pt1 what if all i need is you (can be read as standalone)

Spencer closed the tab on his computer, a frustrated scowl forming on his lips. For days, he’d been scouring the internet, spending sleepless nights hunched over his desk, searching for the perfect anniversary gift for you. It was your first year together, and everything had to be perfect.

But nothing felt right. Every idea he considered was quickly dismissed. He shut his eyes, trying to quiet his overthinking mind.

You two met at his favorite coffee place, he noticed you right away when he realized you stole his seat. 

You had yourself perched against the chair nuzzled against the rest of the wall. 

And after a week of ogling you across the room he finally got enough courage to start a conversation over a book you were reading. Then with shaky fingers and some mumbling he finally had the courage to ask you out, suggesting a tour of the city since you just moved.

Spencer knew his demanding work schedule wasn’t easy on you. You were so patient, understanding, and kind—perhaps too kind, he often thought. Canceled dinner dates, postponed trips, missed laughs, and missed love were all too common. Yet despite it all, you always met him with a reassuring smile.

“I know you’re busy saving lives,” You had told him once, as the two of you cuddled in bed after the third missed date in a row. He hadn’t had anything better to offer than a string of apologies, and he feared one day it wouldn't be enough.

“Hey pretty boy, what’s got you so upset?” Morgan asked, his voice pulling Spencer out of his thoughts.

Spencer took a moment to collect himself before turning to Morgan. “I’m trying to figure out a good anniversary gift for her.”

In a room full of profilers he didn’t think they’d be so keen on his social cues, but of course they noticed him constantly fidgeting and sneaking quick glances at his phone. 

Emily was the first to find out about you.

The teasing lasted months.

Penelope was rushing toward his desk with her tea in one hand and Morgan’s coffee in the other.

“You have to go all out!” Garcia exclaimed, barely containing her excitement. “Chocolates, flowers—oh, please tell me you’ve got the whole day planned!”

“Calm down, baby girl,” Morgan laughed, taking his coffee. “I’m sure our genius over here has something in mind.”

Spencer sighed. “I want to make it special since it’s our first anniversary, but I just don’t know what she’d like.”

“Well, what are her love languages?” Penelope asked, ready to unleash her vast knowledge of relationships.

“I think it’s quality time,” Spencer replied, a small smile playing on his lips as he thought about you. “She’s always engaged in our conversations, making strong eye contact, putting her phone away, asking questions. She also lingers after dates.”

He paused, recalling the moments you’d linger on your doorstep after he drove you home, the way you’d breathe him in after a kiss, your forehead resting against his. “She never seems in a rush to leave, like she values every moment we spend together.”

Morgan grinned, leaning back in his chair with a knowing look. “There you go, pretty boy. Think about what she loves, what makes her happy. That’s the key.”

Spencer nodded picked up his phone, scrolling through the list he’d made of all your favorite things.

He stopped on a picture of you smiling back at him from the screen, a photo he’d taken during one of your many picnics. Your hair had been flowing in the wind, your eyes crinkled with your smile as you explained the meaning behind one of your favorite songs. It was the same photo that graced both his phone and laptop backgrounds.

“She loves almost every kind of art,” he whispered, his heart swelling with affection. “Renaissance literature, realism paintings, classic books. And she’s really outdoorsy too.”  He whispered, his heart expanding, pumping. thump, thump- laced with love.

He thought about the countless picnic dates, the times you’d coaxed him out of bed for a run or a hike. His mind wandered to what you might be doing right now—your second class of the day had likely started, and he imagined you taking notes, doodling in the margins.

Penelope and Morgan exchanged amused glances, their lips quivering with smiles as they listened to Spencer’s lovesick ramblings.

“Looks like Reid’s got it bad,” Morgan whispered to Garcia, who stifled a giggle behind her hand.

“He really does,” she agreed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Spencer hadn’t seen you in two weeks, four days, twenty-three minutes, and fourteen seconds—far too long. He didn’t want to waste another moment as he approached your door, your favorite flowers in hand. Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait another second, as you opened the door before he could even knock.

Spencer’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of you. Every day, he found himself falling for you more and more. You gave him a shy smile, stepping out to wrap your arms around his taller frame. He hugged you back immediately, burying his head in the crook of your neck. When you finally pulled apart, he took a proper look at you, bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sunlight. In that moment, and in every other, you were the epitome of beauty—a vision that left him utterly mesmerized.

“These are for you,” Spencer said softly, offering you the peonies. He realized they paled in comparison to you, but nonetheless, he held them out.

“You never forget them, Spence,” you said, your voice equally soft. Spencer chuckled, half-offended that you’d think he ever could—eidetic memory or not.

“I’m glad you like them,” he replied, taking your hand as he led you to his car, opening the door for you. “I have the whole day planned.”

“Yeah?” Your head rises of its own accord against the car seat. 

"I really want it to be perfect." 

It’s already perfect because how much better can it get you thought? You're in his car, your favorite songs playing in the background and his hand never leaves your side. 

“It already is.” You say grazing your thumb over his knuckles. 

You finally reach the place away from everyone else. “There’s a trail nearby and a perfect place for a picnic.” Spencer whispers, slipping his hand into yours again. 

It fits so perfectly.

You smile, squeezing his hand “Lead the way.” 

In a field of daisies Spencer pulls out a blanket, carefully placing his gifts as he pats the spot next to him. You nestle against his taller frame, he smells like sandalwood, coffee, and home. 

“What are you thinking about?” You ask him, he smiles down at you playing with your hair absentmindedly. 

“You. Always you.” You get the familiar, but nevertheless oh-so welcome kick in your stomach every time he smiles at you. 

“What about you?” He asks in return, and you shrug, not able to convey all your emotions. 

“I'm thinking that I want my gifts.” You say slightly pouting.

With a shy smile, Spencer untangled himself from you and reached for the presents. He handed you a beautifully wrapped package and a small painting, both wrapped with care.

“I hope you like them,” he said, his voice tinged with nervousness.

Your eyes lit up as you unwrapped the gifts, revealing a limited edition of Sylvia Plath’s work—a book you’d mentioned offhandedly that you’d been searching for. Your gaze met his, overflowing with emotions you hadn’t known were possible. You always believed in love, but this? This was beyond anything you’d imagined. It made all the heartbreaks of the past worth it because they led you to him.

You abandoned the gifts, flinging yourself into his arms. He laughed, catching you as you both tumbled onto the grass. Spencer buried his face in the crook of your neck, holding you close.

“They’re perfect,” you whispered. “Thank you so much.”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed. “I’m glad you like them,” he replied, still holding you.

“How did you even find it?” you asked, marveling at the book.

“Brittney Johnson—remember the missing persons case we solved? Her dad’s a book collector. He was really grateful and said if we ever needed a favor, he’d be happy to help.”

You smiled, touched by his thoughtfulness. You’d spent so long building walls around yourself, convincing yourself you didn’t need a relationship. But with Spencer, those walls crumbled before you even had a chance to put them up.

“I also wrote you a card, my handwriting isn't the best, but I know you like words of affirmation” Spencer said, reaching into his bag. But before he could present it, dark clouds gathered overhead, and raindrops began to fall, dampening the ground.

“Seriously?” Spencer groaned, quickly sheltering you with his jacket. The chocolate and sandwiches were ruined, along with your clothes. The two of you hurried to the car, making sure the gifts were safe, and finally found shelter inside.

“I’m sorry our picnic was ruined, angel,” Spencer said, helping you fix your hair.

“It’s not ruined, Spence. We can have a night in, order some Chinese, and finish a new episode?” you suggested, trying to cheer him up.

“Yeah, sure,” he agreed, though he couldn’t hide his disappointment as he started the car.

𐙚 ✱ ❤︎ ࿐ ۫ .

Back at your apartment, the two of you hurried inside, drenched from the rain. You kicked off your shoes and quickly disappeared into your bedroom, returning with dry clothes for both of you. You handed Spencer his sweater, the one you’d “borrowed” long ago, and couldn’t help but smile as he accepted it.

“Hey, I was looking for this,” he said, pulling on the warm sweater.

“Sorry I stole it,” You replied, not the least bit apologetic.

He shook his head, following you to the kitchen, where you were setting up takeout containers on the counter. The sweater smells like you and he thinks he should let you keep it. It smells like cherries, winter warmth and like the love of his life.

“I love that you did. I feel closer to you whenever I wear it.”

You blushed, grateful he couldn’t see your flushed cheeks as you turned to grab plates. Spencer wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“This isn’t how I planned our anniversary,” he admitted, his voice soft. “I wanted everything to be perfect.”

You turned in his arms, cupping his cheek as you gazed into his warm eyes. “Spence, it was perfect. It’s not about the flowers or the gifts or the picnic. It’s about being with you.”

Before Spencer could respond, you gently stepped out of his embrace, suddenly remembering you still had his gift to give.

“I have a surprise for you,” you said with a smile, rummaging through the gift bag. You walked back to him, holding up a beautifully knitted purple scarf.

“My mom’s been teaching me how to knit, and this is the first thing I made. It’s for you. I know you get colds easily, and keeping your neck and chest warm can help reduce the shock of inhaling cold, dry air, which irritates your respiratory tract. I even stitched my name on the end, so a part of me is always with you.”

Spencer’s face lit up as he accepted the scarf, immediately noticing how it carried your familiar scent.

“This is so thoughtful,” he said, his eyes soft with appreciation. “I don’t think anyone’s ever been this concerned about my colds. Although, just so you know, wearing a scarf alone won’t prevent you from catching a cold. Colds are caused by viruses, usually spread through respiratory droplets or by touching contaminated surfaces.”

You smiled at his rambling, finding comfort in the way his mind worked—it was like a love language all its own. Chuckling softly, you wrapped the scarf around his neck, adjusting it just right.

“It’s the thought that counts, angel,” he said sincerely, his voice filled with warmth. “It’s already my favorite scarf.” He then brought your knuckles to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to them.

It's in the quiet, messy, beautifully imperfect moments like this, spencer thinks: where love is felt in every heartbeat, every glance, and every shared breath.

thank you so much for reading <33

[sanakimohara]

I'm hoping it's not just me that gets honey by taking nudes (semi even). Literally with each piece of clothing gone, I become horny(er). So I was thinking about hyunjin seeing reader taking nudes 🤭

[ NXDE ] H. H.

pairing/s: hyunjin x fem! reader

summary: having a new, rich, and entitled step brother has its ups and downs…

playlist:

warnings: smut + mdni + nsfw + blackmail / degradation…? + mastrubatuon + degradation + pervhyunjin + cumeating / oral

type: headcannnon \ semi specific plot

authors note: eons later I finally get to this…please forgive me…

[ not proofread ]

Hyunjin walks in on you by accident. Swallowing a loud groan, he watches you from your bedroom doorway. Your back is towards him, laptop open, webcam running, and your phone propped up in your hands as you lay on your side and snap an overhead picture of yourself with the sluttiest smile he’s ever seen.

Hyunjin dares to shift his gaze away from your face, eyes falling half-closed, seeing your pink sundress tossed at the end of your bed, sheer tights lying on top of the discarded clothing, and your bralette soon joining the pile. He digs his teeth into his tongue, seeing the light fabric leave your skin, the curve of your breasts visible from the back as you sit up on your knees and pose for another photo.

Hyunjin isn’t above watching you in silence, awed and too painfully aware of his growing erection. He stays for the show you put on -performing for the cameras to please no one else but yourself. That’s what he’s convinced himself, hoping you don’t notice him observing, praying you don’t hear the whisper of a groan he lets out as you slowly widen the space between your knees while circling your hips to settle down.

Hyunjin can’t take his eyes off you, gaze flickering between the cameras you provocatively pose for and your body. You take all the time in the world to snap and film yourself, mirroring positions he’d only dreamt of putting you in himself, able to mimic doe and siren eyes on a subconscious cue, and the point of it all driving him insane as he stands in your bedroom doorway.

Who could you be taking these photos for?

Why couldn’t he convince himself to leave, to slam the door shut and forget he ever saw you doing something so private and depraved?

What could he possibly do to stifle the near painful heat in his abdomen, the constant pulsing of his cock through his black sweat, or the twitch of his fingers as he forced his body to remain stone still and out of your sight?

There are too many questions and not enough answers.

Hyunjin can’t help the chill crawling up his spine when you finally notice him watching you strip and photograph every inch of skin he dreamt of touching with his own hands. Your eyes cut through him via your laptop lens, a sweet smile slowly spreading across your face and a mocking rise of your hips as you shift to look at him directly over your shoulder. His chest is weighted with tangible shame.

He shouldn’t be doing this, watching his new little step-sister taking vulgar pictures of herself for god knows what reason and fantasizing that her motives for doing so had something to do with him and no one else.

He shouldn’t have enjoyed the evident smirk tugging at your peach-plump lips, the haze in your eyes as you beckoned him towards you with a single finger, or the tilt of your head when he shook his head to refuse.

He stares at your bare breasts, full and looking soft to the touch, among other details he took in about you at the moment. His voice skated on the edge of a whisper, trembling with illicit desire, “I…I should go..”

You sat up straight, a pout on your lips as you shifted to sit, your knees pulled up just slightly from the bed, and your arms helping to balance your weight in the new, relaxed position. “Why? I liked having a little audience…even if it was my pervert of a stepbrother..”

It’s no insult; your light tone and quiet giggle clarify the possible misconception, but they still manage to irritate him.

“I’m not a pervert…” he mutters back immediately, glaring straight at you but failing to uphold his protest as that very same glare lowered to the space between your partially opened legs.

Hyunjin exhales heavily through his nose, entranced by your barely covered cunt peeking back at him. Your slit is made evident by the dewy patch of arousal seeping through your lace underwear, soft folds nearly swallowing the thin fabric. He can’t see it, but your walls throb the longer he stares where he shouldn’t, a boldness snaking its way into your train of thought, seeing his body visibly waver against the doorframe he stood in.

Hyunjin is in a dazed trance as you begin to touch yourself, lazily sliding a hand to caress your inner thighs and gliding that very same hand over the slick expanse of your folds while a shiver racks your body. His tongue darts past his lips, strands of dark hair falling over his sultry stare, the heat pulsating in his chest pouring into his cock as your middle finger gently rubs past the puffy and wet slit holding his interest.

A smirk travels onto your face; your voice is sweet and low as breathy moans float between your words. “Mhmm…but look at you…Hyunie...”

“…watching me touch myself…”

Your finger dips past the fabric of your panties, immediately covered in your sticky arousal and the sound of the single digit echoing softly through his ears. He swallows hard, eyes sliding shut to snap open a moment later as you whimper from the loss of eye contact. “Look at me…please..” you feign desperation, aware of your stepbrother's struggle to sustain morality or indulge in what he can’t have.

You, his oh-so-spoiled little stepsister, got away with everything.

Who haunted his fantasies like a slippery ghost for the hell of doing so.

Hyunjin holds his resolve for a moment longer, weighing all his motives, stare flickering between the slow and steady pump of your fingers diving in and out of your creamy walls. Leaving now would be so easy; his absence could wipe the little triumphant smirk off your pretty face and give him something to hold onto your head.

But what’s the fun in that?

Hyunjin takes his chances, pushing off the doorframe with a huff and reaching a hand behind to slam your bedroom door shut and lock it for good measure. You don’t stop what you’re doing; your body is racked with delicious tingles of anticipation as your index and ring fingers join the assault of your cunt. Your lips slowly fall open from the mountain in your lower stomach, the tight feeling accelerated by his steady gaze and nearing body heat. He’s given up denying your backhanded compliments, cursing under his breath in awe as your doe-eyed gaze falters into an utterly desperate haze and your fingers dive into your walls at a faster pace.

“N-need your help…” you whisper, thighs trembling slightly as your fingers barely graze against the spot you need the most friction. It’s not enough; you could never make it enough, especially knowing he could do much better at the task.

Hyunjin let his body move independently, sinking to the floor on his knees without a second thought. His large hands smoothed up your bare and warm legs to grip the back of your knees. You fidgeted under his touch, having thought about several occasions, but you were startled to feel the slight roughness in his skin.

Your timid reaction induced no pause from him, his hold tightening just enough to drag your body close to him with one tug, and you obediently complied with a soft whine flying past your lips. “You’re … so…disgusting…”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, not sparing your face a glance as he slaps your hand away from your soaking cunt, irritated by how slowly you’re touching yourself. “Shut up…take my help or not…I don’t care…” He forces an edge to the response, not meaning a word of it but hyper-focused on the mess you’ve already made.

One piece of fabric left on your body, drenched by cum, and obnoxiously useless in his eyes.

You open your mouth to mock him again, face flushed by his last retort, but your pride is too enthralled for you to accept defeat and his intense stare on your cunt not helping your wavering confidence in the situation. “Mak-“

Hyunjin is quicker than you, head diving straight between your thighs before a completely notable phrase leaps off your tongue while he licks a thick stripe from sipping entrance up to your relatively neglected clit. “Fuck!..” you help in shock and delight as he laps at your cunt with little regard for anything else, hands trailing down to scratch at your inner thighs and holding them open as his head rested on the right one. Your eyes lower, watering with pleasant tears watching him eagerly delve his tongue along your slit and past your drizzling entrance.

A question of his integrity floats in the back of your head, fizzling out on your tongue as a trembling gasp fills your chest. “H-Hyunjin..?”

“Hmm…?” He groans, immersed in the taste of you, lips placing tender to your clit when his tongue isn’t swirling on or around it. You bite your lip, swallowing a moan as your parents unlock the front door, which carries you up two flights of stairs and into your oddly quiet room.

Hyunjin hears them too but refuses to acknowledge their hovering presence as he presses his head further between your trembling thighs, the fluff of his hair tickling your heated and sensitive skin, and the force of his shift in position knocking you onto your back. There’s no longer a point in showing hesitation; he’s come to terms with that and entirely abandoned the facade of maintaining dignity, hearing your shy moans feel the air with every slip of his tongue into your fluttering hole.

You can’t stand looking at him directly anymore, blushing rose red as he purposely spits into your entrance, lapping up the mixture of your arousal and his drool with an excited and guttural groan as your hands fly to weave through his dark tresses.

“F…mhmm f-feels so…” The praise twists in your chest, verging on coming out, but you are strangled by the constant pressure of orgasm as he shoves your legs further up and out.

Hyunjin smirks as you choke on a silent scream from the new position he’s put you in, nearly folded in half, and left no choice but to let him have his fill of your creamy pussy with your discarded clothes slipping off the bed's edge. One glance up at you makes his cock throb almost painfully, sweats constricting the tense twitching seeing your pleasured expressions and writhing body reflected in the laptop's webcams and your up-standing phone camera.

He could get used to catching you in the act.

Maybe, just maybe, you’d be a sweet little stepsister for once and take more than a few pictures and videos for him and only him.

It wouldn’t hurt to ask, right?…

authors note: yall aren’t going to believe this… but I went fucking camping and I hated it tbh…

other links: n/a

[ bonus content + ]

Credits to Creator 🖤 Also, what do you guys think of the members' solo stages so far? Which ones are your favorites?

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: wanda maximoff, your domme and girlfriend, tests you with impossible rules, and subsequently punishes you for failing to follow them.

content warnings: obvi smut, restraints, impact play, edging, cunnilingus.

word count: 4k+

masterlist

original request

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

My Good Girl

The afternoon sun cast warm hues through the floor-to-ceiling window, illuminating the cozy office and casting soft shadows across the floor. Wanda sat at her desk, fingers absentmindedly tapping on the dark wood. Lines of text filled her screen, yet her mind was elsewhere. 

With a soft hum of contemplation, Wanda closed the laptop, a soft click breaking through the peaceful silence of the room. 

‘I want to try something new tonight.’

The text is sent with a soft sound, and Wanda traces her phone slowly as she waits for you to read the message. Her mind is thrown back to the plethora of information she’d spent the better half of the afternoon consuming. 

Agatha, one of her closest friends, and a well-known domme, had sent her a few websites to check out. Wanda had let it slip during one of their wine nights that although she was happy with you and the dom/sub relationship you’d built, she wanted to try something more. 

You were perfect. Truly. Submissive, and willing to do whatever she said. Wanda loved the thrill she got whenever you obeyed an order. 

But you were almost too perfect. 

One of the sites she’d pursued was full of dominants sharing the ways they put a bratty sub in their place. Wanda had found herself growing wetter with each post she scrolled through. Her mind had found itself wandering over to you. 

You, tears welling up as she choked you with her strap. You, pulling uselessly on scarlet ribbon restraints as she teased you for hours. You, with your face scrunched up as she twisted and pulled on your nipples until you begged her for mercy. 

The word mommy, slipping from your lips as you blushed. 

Wanda had to take several breaks throughout her afternoon, her fingers slipping below her waistband and sliding over the slick arousal coating her panties. She’d thought of you while rubbing herself to a climax, imagining your wide eyes as you knelt before her…

Fuck. She was getting worked up again. 

Her phone dinged, and Wanda had to physically shake herself while she scrambled for her phone. Her fingers trembled as she unlocked the phone, seeing your message. 

‘Of course we can! What did you have in mind?’

You were so eager to please, so willing to succumb to anything Wanda asked of you. She took a few deep breaths, typing out her response with one hand while quickly packing her bag. 

‘When I get home, I want you naked and kneeling by the door. You will address me as ma’am, nothing else. Understood?’

Wanda could feel herself slipping into her dominant headspace, the thrill of giving orders rushing through her. 

‘And if I break one of those rules?’

Oh, it was almost too easy.

‘I’ll have to punish you, darling. I’m on my way home. Remember my instructions.’

Slipping her phone into her pocket, Wanda cast one last look around her office before turning out the light. Locking up, she strode quickly down the hall, thankfully not seeing any other employees around. 

The car ride home was agonizing, the heat between her legs growing into an unbearable inferno. Wanda couldn’t help but squeeze her thighs together at the thought of you breaking her rules. 

And she knew just the thing to distract you and cause you to slip up. 

At a stoplight just outside the city, about five minutes from your shared home, Wanda pulled out her phone. Knowing the light would take a while to turn green, she pulled up the locked photo album hidden in her files. Selecting a photo, she quickly sent it to you with no caption. 

The photo was a selfie, the phone propped up against her work computer. Wanda had popped a few too many buttons, the lace of her red bra peeking out from underneath her silk shirt and jacket. Her eyes were locked on the camera, iridescent and smoldering, while the fingers of one hand were wrapped tightly around her tie, pulling it away from her neck. The other hand was resting on her belt, a single finger slipping beneath the waistband of her dress pants. 

Wanda let her imagination run wild, imagining the flush creeping up your neck and coloring your face. Your breath would catch, pupils dilating as arousal shot through you. By the time you positioned yourself at the door, your juices would be smeared all over your delicate inner thighs, your eyes pleading and desperate. 

The light turned green, and Wanda refocused. Only a few minutes until she'd be home. 

The anticipation was killing her. 

—

Wanda forced herself to slow her gait, walking leisurely up the steps to the front door. Her heels clicked on the pavement and she hoped that you could hear her approaching. 

The door clicked open, the key sliding easily into the lock. 

Green eyes found you easily, a pleased smile stretching across those beautiful lips as Wanda observed your kneeling form. Your eyes were just as wide as she’d hoped, your irises disappearing as your pupils dilated further at the sight of her. 

“Hello, darling.”

Wanda made sure to pitch her voice low, a sultry tone making its way through her words. Her gaze pierced yours, a silent demand hidden within them. 

“Good afternoon, ma’am.” Your voice shook, and you sucked in a shaky breath. 

Your hands were placed atop your thighs, palms flat as you subtly parted your thighs. Wanda caught a glimpse of the shiny arousal coating your inner thighs, and she breathed deeply, hoping your scent would envelop her. 

“How was your day, sweetheart?” Wanda asked, setting her bag down and slipping her jacket off her shoulders. She hung it up, flicking her fingers in silent order for you to follow. 

“It was good, um, ma’am.” You stuttered, crawling after her as she made her way towards the living room. 

Seating herself on the couch, Wanda crossed one leg elegantly over the other. You crawled up to her, eyes glancing between her lips and legs. You sat up, posture straight and palms flat, with your fingers thrumming nervously on your thighs. 

“And what did my good girl do today?” Wanda smirked at you. 

“Oh, I uh…” Your eyes grew distant as you tried to force yourself to focus. “I worked a little bit, and then I made some meal prep for the week, ma’am.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow, “Anything else?”

You wracked your brain, trying to remember what you’d done that day. The only thing running through your mind was the insatiable picture Wanda had sent you. Your mind focused on the captivating curve of her breasts, the smoldering look in her eyes, similar to the one she was giving you now. 

“Oh!” You remembered something, excitement weaving its way through your words. “I made you something!”

Wanda paused for a moment, seemingly waiting for something, but you were looking up at her with wide eyes and a satisfied grin. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” You could sense the satisfaction in Wanda’s voice, and faltered. 

“Ma’am.” You blurted out, but Wanda was already shaking her head. 

“Too late, darling.” 

You paled slightly, but Wanda could see the excitement glowing in your eyes. You were curious, anticipation thrumming through you. The flush on your face was slowly growing darker, the tips of your ears burning as the weight of Wanda’s gaze settled on you. 

“Bedroom, now. You know what position I like you in.”

A punishment. That’s what you were receiving. You hadn’t had one of those in a long time, not since the beginning of your relationship with Wanda. 

“Yes ma’am.” Your voice was quiet, and you stood, watching Wanda for any sign of disapproval. When she gave none, you turned and headed toward the bedroom, aware of her gaze burning on your hips. 

Approaching the bed, you let your hand caress the soft silk of the comforter. Kneeling on top of the mattress, you take a steadying breath, listening for the click of Wanda’s heels. 

You don’t have to wait for long. The slow, measured steps of Wanda’s confident gait reach your ears, and you subconsciously straighten your back. Ensuring that your gaze is locked on your hands, you resist the urge to look up when the soft light from the hallway hits your eyes as Wanda enters the room.

“Such a good girl.” Wanda’s voice is soft, and you feel some of your arousal leak out and drip down your thighs. 

You don’t speak, knowing that Wanda likes to command every part of you, including your words. Instead, you offer a small smile, eyes locked on her form as she walks toward the closet. She disappears inside, throwing a smile over her shoulder.

A whimper threatens to escape you, but you choke it down. If Wanda heard one errant sound from you, she’d surely increase your punishment. That’s the last thing you want, so you simply resist the urge to shift on the bed and wait. 

The minutes stretch on, and you mentally curse your girlfriend out. You knew she was doing this on purpose, building up the anticipation. You want to call out, but your words get stuck in your throat, not wanting to add to your punishment. 

So you wait, your arousal building with each minute until the sheets below you are damp. 

You hear the door open, the heady presence of Wanda Maximoff filling the room. The sheer dominance that she emanates washes over you, loosening your muscles as your head grows fuzzier. 

You can trust her. Wanda only wants what’s best for you. 

“You’re doing so well for me, love,” Wanda says, moving onto the bed and kneeling before you. She’s still fully clothed, her buttoned shirt brushing against your skin in a tantalizing dance as she sets a few items beside her. You don’t dare look, keeping your eyes trained on your hands until she commands you otherwise. 

“Look at me.”

Green eyes seem slightly softer in the dim light, and you search them for any clue of what the night entails. 

“Tell me why I’m punishing you,” The words jumpstart your brain, and you begin speaking as Wanda picks up a silky, scarlet ribbon. 

“I forgot one of your rules, I’m sorry, mo…” The word almost slips from your lips, but you clench them shut. 

Wanda raises an eyebrow at you, almost daring you to continue. You remain silent, still not ready to use the title you want. Your mind wars with itself, the waves of indecision subsiding when Wanda gently smiles at you and brushes her fingers lightly against your cheek.

Her eyes are soft, and you know that she won’t press the topic. Not until you’re ready. 

“And which rule was that?”

“I forgot to call you ma’am, I’m sorry,” You say, your voice earnest. 

At your practically whimpered words, Wanda has already forgiven you. However, the thought of punishing you is far too tantalizing, so she picks up one of the silk ribbons. 

“And you know what this is, correct?” 

“Yes ma’am,” You won’t be forgetting her title anytime soon, and Wanda feels pride shoot through her at your steadfast obedience. She gently pushes you backwards, until you realize what she’s doing. 

Positioning yourself on your back, you stretch your arms out toward the headboard, enjoying the feel of the scarlet ribbon around your wrist as Wanda begins to restrain you. Your clit pulses when she tightens the ribbon securely, and you fight the urge to roll your hips.

Quickly fastening your other wrist to the headboard, Wanda waits for you to test the strength. She smirks while you writhe beneath her, attempting to escape. You squirm, your hips restrained by her thighs as she sits atop you, her fingernails scraping lightly down your sides before you give up. 

“Thank you, ma’am.” You say, and Wanda’s eyes light up in pleasure. 

In one smooth movement, she flips you over, her fingers digging into your hips as she roughly positions you on your stomach. Your wrists cross over each other at the change of position, her hands pulling your body down until you can barely move an inch. 

A hand on the back of your head shoves your face into a soft pillow, and you turn your cheek slightly to be able to breathe. Wanda doesn't seem to notice, her attention focused on the item she now holds in her hand. 

You catch a glimpse of the paddle and whine. It’s been a while since she’s used that toy on you, and you vividly remember the last experience. You hadn’t been able to sit down for three days. 

“Remember your colors, sweetheart.” Wanda reminds you, and you nod into the pillow as her hand gently squeezes the flesh of your ass. 

The first strike takes you by surprise, and your body jolts, attempting to escape the sharp sting. You hear Wanda chuckling above you and can practically feel her eyes appraising the bright red mark that the paddle left. Before you’ve recovered from the first hit, the paddle swings down again, pain and pleasure mixing as she strategically places marks across your whole backside. 

When the paddle hits the sensitive skin of your upper thigh, you let out a yelp. 

“Darling?” Wanda asks. You can’t formulate a response and your breaths are heavy and fast. You tug at the restraints, a soft green tumbling past your lips. 

The hits are quick and hard, pain radiating through you even as your clit throbs. You can feel your juices dripping down your thighs and soaking the sheet beneath you. The humiliation of the situation only turns you on more, and it’s not long before you’re moaning softly into the pillow. 

A heavy sigh makes its way through you when Wanda pauses, setting the paddle down beside you. “Color,” She demands, her hands cool against your abused flesh. 

“Green, thank… thank you,” Your words are breathy, stuttering when Wanda’s fingers graze your slit. 

A single finger circles your clit, and you can’t help but push your ass upwards, trying to appease the tension between your legs. 

“Oh,” Wanda says, her voice full of mirth. “It seems like you want more, love.”

Nodding frantically, you roll your hips forward. 

A sharp pain makes its way through you, Wanda’s hand coming down quickly against your sensitive backside. You let out a half moan, half yelp at the action. 

“Don’t rut against the bed like a pathetic mutt,” She practically growls, bringing her hand down sharply a few more times. “You’re practically begging for a punishment.”

You want to complain, you want to whine about the injustice of it all. Instead, you remain quiet, not wanting to risk more pain. You can feel Wanda shifting, and bite your lip when the cool leather of the paddle drags across your overheated backside. 

“Do you want more?” Wanda asks, and you can’t do anything but nod. You turn your head, peeking at her from the corner of your eye. Her green eyes are locked on the swell of your ass, and you shudder at the hungry look in them. 

“Beg for it.”

The paddle presses against your clit, the pressure sending pleasure coursing through you. Resisting the urge to grind against it, you grit your teeth and speak. “Please, ma’am. I want you to hit me. Punish me, please, I’ve been a bad girl.”

Wanda doesn’t respond, instead raising the paddle and delivering more blows to your aching backside. 

You begin to moan, the pain morphing into a sick sort of pleasure. With each blow, your clit is pressed against the mattress, your orgasm approaching rapidly. You know better than to beg, you’d learned long ago that Wanda liked to control every aspect of your pleasure, including when you were allowed to cum. 

“Are you close?” Wanda asks, not giving you a chance to respond before she continues to speak, “I can see you dripping onto the sheets, your hips rutting pathetically of their own will. Do you want to cum, baby? Do you want to cum while mommy hits you with the paddle?”

The words worm their way into your mind, twisting your thoughts while pleasure and pain consume your being. Her hits don’t cease, the leather paddle slapping against you over and over again. 

The pillow is damp beneath your cheek. You hadn’t realized that you’d begun to cry, and a whine escaped your mouth without your permission. It only spurs Wanda on. 

“Oh, you like this, don’t you darling? You like being mommy’s little fucktoy, taking whatever I give you. Say it.”

You barely register her words, something incoherent spewing from your mouth as she delivers the harshest blows of the night. One of Wanda’s hands tangles with your hair, wrenching your head up from the pillow. 

“Say it.” Her voice is deadly, low, and raspy. You don’t dare disobey. 

“I like it, I like it when you treat me like this. Please don’t stop. Please, fuck.” You cut yourself off, feeling Wanda swing the paddle harshly at the curse word. 

“Mommy, please.”

Relief. Your brain starts to work again. The pain radiating from your backside subsides slightly as Wanda drops the paddle to the floor. You feel as though you should be embarrassed, but don’t. 

Truth be told, you’ve wanted to call Wanda by that title for a while, and at this moment, it just felt right. 

“Say that again for me, darling.” 

You feel your body being manhandled again, your hips twisting until you’re on your back again. Green eyes stare down at you, a slightly dazed look in them. Wanda’s fingers trace patterns on your ribcage, moving up to tease your nipples while she waits. 

“Mommy,” Your voice is quiet, almost shy, but the word is genuine. “Please let me cum.”

Wanda can’t bring herself to punish you any longer. Not after you’ve finally used the title she’s been yearning for. She finds herself suddenly incapable of speaking, the words catching in her throat. 

Surging forward, Wanda presses her impossibly soft lips to yours. Her tongue dances against yours, tracing your lips and drawing soft moans from you. You fight the urge to roll your hips, her thigh pressed perfectly against your center. 

Her tongue explores your mouth for what seems like forever, and you find yourself growing wetter with each minute. You can’t complain, though. Kissing Wanda will always be something you treasure. 

Eventually, the need for air becomes too great, and Wanda pulls back. Her eyes search yours, a smile slowly stretching across her face. 

“Good girl,” She coos, a hand reaching up and cupping your cheek. “Thank you, sweetheart,”

You grin, sure that your eyes are sparkling as you gaze up at her. From this angle, she looks almost angelic, with her hair falling around you. You don’t mind, if you could choose anything to worship, Wanda would be the first and only thing on your list. 

“I’m going to make you feel really good now, okay?” She says, not giving you a chance to respond before she’s descending your body. She leaves open-mouthed kisses on your skin, enjoying the way you jolt beneath her whenever she nips you with her teeth.

The bruises she leaves behind fill her with pride and a hint of possessiveness, and she gazes up at you when her mouth finally reaches the glistening heat between your thighs. 

“Please,” You whisper, throwing your head back when her tongue applies gentle pressure against your clit. 

It’s practically torture, her skilled mouth alternating between sucking and licking your clit as your orgasm approaches quickly. You want to reach down and tangle your fingers with her hair, pulling her flush against you, and tug uselessly at your restraints. 

Your hips twitch violently, a sign that you’re close to an orgasm. A few… more… strokes of that talented tongue…

Wanda pulls away, and you whine loudly. Her fingers twist your nipple harshly in response, and you mumble a quick apology. 

“None of that,” Wanda reprimands, “you take whatever I give you, remember?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, burying her head between your thighs before you can fully catch your breath. This time, she sucks your clit violently, red-hot bolts of pleasure shooting through you as your thighs tense. 

Her mouth disappears. 

Giving you a few moments to recover, Wanda watches the realization enter your eyes. You mumble, “You’re going to edge me, aren’t you?”

Chuckling, Wanda circles your clit with a single finger. She watches your eyes gloss over as your hips twitch. Pressing harder, she moves rhythmically over the hard nub, enjoying the moans reverberating around the room. You tense up, lips parting as your orgasm draws near…

“Only good girls get to cum, darling,” Wanda pulls her fingers fully away from you. 

You want to scream. You want to curse her out, you want to escape your restraints and hump her thigh until you cum. You want to…

A moan claws its way out from your chest, and Wanda takes that as a sign to continue. 

You don’t know how long she edges you, the only thing you’re aware of is the growing arousal between your thighs and the pleasure that builds and builds and dissipates whenever Wanda senses that you’re close. 

After a while, the fuzziness takes over your mind, and you lose count of the edges as Wanda’s tongue relentlessly works against your core. She keeps her fingers locked around your thighs, refusing to give your pussy any sort of real satisfaction. 

Practically crazed with arousal and desperation, you attempt to roll your hips against Wanda’s lips. 

“Do you want me to bring the paddle out again?” Wanda raises a single eyebrow, her hand raising and striking your swollen pussy. The sting shoots through your clit, and you jerk your hips as you recoil from the pain. 

“No, I’m sorry mommy. Please…” You moan as Wanda’s warm mouth encircles your clit. “Please forgive me.”

Time blends with the countless edges, and you find yourself lost in a pleasurable vanilla haze. The only thing you’re aware of is Wanda. Her tongue, building you up. Her eyes, watching you as her fingers hold your thighs and hips against the mattress. Her scent, an addicting drug that you never want to abstain from. 

Your orgasm, just barely out of reach. Wanda, bringing you closer and closer and…

—

You open your eyes, your vision seeming sharper than before. Warm water surrounds you, suds covering your chest as a warm washcloth gently rubs against your collarbone.

“Mommy?” 

Wanda moves into your field of vision, her eyes filled with concern. You smile widely, relaxing further into the water. You want to reach up and pull her face closer, yearning to feel her lips against yours, but your limbs don’t seem to work properly. 

“Hi, sweetheart. You scared me,” Wanda’s voice is soft, and you can sense the worry underneath her accent. 

“I’m alright, I promise,” You reassure her, resting your head against the side of the tub. “But…” Trailing off, you watch Wanda’s brows furrow in concern. 

“I still really want to cum.” 

Wanda scoffs, splashing you lightly as you laugh. Allowing yourself to fully relax, you let her wash away your sweat, her hands gentle as she scrubs the dried arousal off your thighs. 

“You don’t get to cum tonight, I'm punishing you.” Wanda sounds like she’s about to whine, and you splash her. The water droplets cling to her hair, and you laugh at her pout, your arms working again as you pull her in by the neck for a kiss.

Her tongue dances languidly alongside yours, and you push down the arousal that attempts to rise. Honestly, you’d get aroused if Wanda simply walked into a room. With her lips on yours, it’s much harder to tamper your desperation for her. 

“Maybe tomorrow,” Wanda mumbles against your lips, and you roll your eyes. 

Eventually, Wanda ends the impromptu makeout session, finishing the bath and drying you off. She applies some aloe vera to your sore backside, kissing the marks softly as she does so. 

You’ve never felt more loved. 

Sliding in between fresh, cool sheets, Wanda pulls you flush against her. Your head is comfortably nestled in the crook of her neck, and you can feel her heartbeat against your palm. 

Gentle lips kiss the top of your head, and you feel yourself drifting off. Wanda hums, murmuring one final thing before you finally succumb to the waves of drowsiness washing over you. 

“Happy Valentine's Day, my love.”

---

Dm or comment to be added!

Taglist: @alexawynters @msvenablesbitch @marilynthornhilllover @lifespectator @milkeeteaa @imnotawitch @marvels--slut @justabrokensunshine @dorabledewdroop @wandsmxmff @esposadejoyhuerta

[kiestrokes]

Say My Name | NSFW

Pairing: Fratboy!Song Mingi x AFAB!Reader/You/Yn Featuring: Jeong Yunho, Jung Wooyoung, Kang Yeosang, Kim Hongjoong, Park Seonghwa, with mentions of Choi San of ATEEZ and Yoon Jeonghan of SVT Rating: NSFW. Mature (18+) Minors DNI. Word Count: 7,407 Genre: some slices of life, mild inner turmoil, college au, smut. Warnings: this storyline does have polyamory/open relationships intertwined, bisexual/pansexual orientations for: Yoon Jeonghan, Jeong Yunho; Jung Wooyoung; Choi San and Song Mingi, jealous ex boyfriends, drinking, smoking weed, cursing.

Sexually Explicit Content: mention of threesomes, mxm, fxm, fxmxm, oral sex (f. receiving), vaginal penetration, condoms, orgasms (both), clit stim, nipple stim, hair pulling, kissing (with tongue), deep sex (or rough sex, but not bdsm level, and no degradation), slight praise, let me know if I missed anything.

Summary: You and Yunho have been childhood best friends since your mothers grew up together, living in different towns but spending all the holidays together. The friendship has always been light and easy, never serious. Reconnecting in college and exploring each other in new ways. After a second breakup with your high school sweetheart, Yunho propositions you to break your dry spell with his new fraternity brother transfer and high school friend Song Mingi. How could you say no?

🗝️ Note:  Welcome to my gay frat house I guess 🤷🏻‍♀️ it didn’t start out this wayyy. But YunWoo took over my brain a week into writing this last year. In addition to the YunGi brainrot that kind of started this. Technically it was the Booty Wurk dance where Yunho looked like Mingi that we all have to blame. But anyway. Hope you enjoy! Please let me know if you did 💋 P.S. long vers of why this took me forever to get this tf out at the end.

Beta Reader(s): @minisugakoobies @minttangerines @chans-room in addition to massive thank you to Sunny and B for helping me in the midst of final edits when my imposter syndrome took over.

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted below.

Read it on ao3!

THE FIVE PARTS OF RUSH WEEK:

KNOW THE RULES

OPEN RUSH

FORMAL RECRUITMENT

INVITATIONS

PLEDGING

PART 1: KNOW THE RULES

Honestly, you can’t believe you let yourself be persuaded into dating your high school boyfriend again after his drunken tirade last autumn.

Yet here you were, listening to two of your friends throw out theories as the why it had ended this time.

Secretly, you knew the reason.

“Maybe it was the distance?” Yunho offers.

“Yea the whole twenty-minute walk from the other college was really far,” Wooyoung scoffs in thinly veiled sarcasm.

“It’s not like it came as a total surprise, he hasn’t touched me in two months.”

You sigh airily into the phone tucked into the crook of your shoulder, while your hands work on the task of deleting photos of your ex from your socials across various tabs on the laptop screen.

“Two months? Not even a kiss?” Wooyoung gasps, appalled.

“Not everyone is as affectionate as you Woo,” Yunho chuckles across the three-way call.

“Noona you should come to the frat party this weekend.”

Wooyoung perks up at the thought of you finally single again. He had missed your casual drunken make out sessions after your 3AM burger runs.

“Aghhh I don’t know…”

“It has been a month since the breakup.” Yunho tacks on, “and you still haven’t met our new frat transfer.”

“I feel like I know him well enough from all the photos and texts you send me about him,” You roll your eyes in mild annoyance.

“Don’t be jealous, noona. There's plenty of Yunho for us all to share,” Wooyoung chastises.

You and Yunho erupt into laughter.

“Yah! I’m serious.”

“Woo, you just confessed to wanting an actual piece of Yunho.”

“I have never hid my affection for hyung or you, noona.”

“That is true,” you conceded.

“Sooo, the party?”

“Can I get laid?” You sigh again, knowing there is no winning this battle.

“I think I can arrange that,” Yunho’s voice turns mischievous.

“Yunho-”

“I got to go, the pizza arrived!”

Yunho’s line disconnects.

“Want me to ask Yeosang to come with you to be your emotional support human?”

“Yes, please.”

You hang up, after Wooyoung makes you say I love you, no less than three times.

The lack of his constant chatter has your mind itching with anxious thoughts, like a small army of ants crawling across your feet at the park this summer.

Are other friend groups as horny as yours seems to have gotten?

Do other collectives partake in casual encounters together?

What do they do with their feelings?

Your ex hadn’t been all too happy when he found out that you had partaken in a threesome with Yunho, while the two of you were broken up last year. Even after you explicitly explained that the two of you never did anything more than kiss.

Now you can’t seem to discern if it’s his voice or your own spinning all these new worries. Those tiny ants tunneling into the deep crevices of your amygdala.

PART 2: OPEN RUSH

Your phone dinging awakens you on the following Wednesday at five in the morning, a video message from Yunho.

Blearily you hiss at the sudden light, and drag the brightness of your phone down, pressing play on the video once your eyes have adjusted. Yunho’s voice comes from above the phone, and you quickly put together that the transfer is lying in his lap, rambling.

“Hyung, why are you always leaving with Wooyoung?”

“To work on some dance techniques, his friend San lets us use their gym.”

“That guy in the opposing frat?” Mingi slurs a scoff, burrowing into Yunho’s thigh.

Yunho’s deep laugh sounds behind the screen and it settles you in your sleep disrupted state.

“Wooyoung might being trying to charm San into switching, among other things…”

This turn in the conversation seems to peak the younger guy's interest as he flips on his back suddenly, gazing up at your best friend with starry eyes.

“I’ve never been with a guy, hyung.”

“Do you want to try it out?”

Yunho’s hand strokes the bleached hair away from the younger man's temple.

“Are you offering?”

He sits up excitedly, tongue toying at the corner of his mouth.

“Maybe, but not right now. You’re in no condition.”

Yunho laughs tenderly, warming you with comfort. Bottom lip jutting out the other guy flops back into Yunho’s lap.

The video ends there, the only message after it is what you assume to be the frat boys name.

Mingi.

PART 3: FORMAL RECRUITMENT

You and Yunho had started your little secret in freshman year, accidentally.

When the then, fraternity president, Yoon Jeonghan had happily pulled you both into a room for a makeout that led to much more. Changing the dynamics of your friendship with Yunho subtly. Clandestinely.

When you weren’t in the relationship, that was quite literally sucking the life out of you. Yunho often brought up another person to your solo dorm and eased the two of you into a consensual threesome.

This was different though; Yunho had never asked you to test the waters on a new third. Either he tested them, or you were all comfortable enough to dive right into triple play.

“What’s different with this new pledge?” You asked, prodding Wooyoung in the ribs to steer his attention away from his burger.

He shrugs in an answer before tilting his head and offering a response, “I think Yunho might like him, they went to school together when they were younger, and he transferred here after having a hard time last year specifically for Yunho.”

You scrunch your nose in thought, chewing on another fry.

“Yunho likes everyone.”

“Noona you know what I mean.” Wooyoung grips your chin, so you have to stare into his eyes.

“Oh.”

Wooyoung nods with a wag of his brows, releasing you with the knowledge you understood what he meant. Mingi wasn’t just a throw away third, Yunho wanted him to become part of your group.

Maybe even something more?

“I’m just glad you’re single again, it was getting a lot to handle over the last year.”

Wooyoung rambled on about how he needed both you and Yunho.

“Woo do you think what we’re doing is…” you break off with a click of your tongue, having interrupted him mid thought of your own.

“What?”

He snags a fry, smirking as you swat at him.

“I don’t know, do you think it’s ok? I mean I don’t want to lose you guys over something as silly as sex.”

Wooyoung didn’t immediately respond, which worried you even more.

“I think we are in college, exploring ourselves and having a little fun.”

He gives you a shrug, but you can see the tension in his shoulders. You and Woo shared a wariness of strangers and fear of losing people that Yeosang and Yunho didn’t have. Nobody ever left the two of them, they were sunshine bottled up in human form.

Your circle hadn’t added anyone new since sophomore year of college when your high school friend, Yeosang, had showed up at your University with Wooyoung.

Which felt like forever ago but had only been three semesters ago in reality. The two had taken their first semester abroad in the German exchange program.

Even then, none of your friends had ever had sex with just you. Sure, Wooyoung got drunk at parties and enjoyed making out with any of you that were willing. All of you enjoyed dirty dancing all over the sticky frat or sorority floors together.

Although frat president Hongjoong was definitely not among the willing. He’d frozen up like a Ouija board when Wooyoung planted a sloppy kiss on him during his election celebration.

Speaking of the devil, Kim Hongjoong was sauntering up to your table, with a wicked smile on his distracting lips.

Oh no.

“Yunho told me you were finally single and ready to Mingle.”

Hongjoong fixed you with a reading stare and challenging smirk.

“HJ, not today,” you groan, massaging your temples.

He slides onto the tabletop, “no not today, but next Friday.”

Hongjoong plucks a fry from your dwindling order, nibbling away while awaiting your response.

You gnaw on your bottom lip, as Yunho approaches with Seonghwa. It seemed Hongjoong had escaped them in order to harass you first. “Are they coming?” Seonghwa asked excitedly.

Tossing his bag onto the seat and slipping his black hoodie off one shoulder to expose a black tank top below. Before gliding on top of the sun warmed table and snatching a bite of Wooyoung's burger.

You look up and right into the puppy dog eyes of Yunho, “We have another surprise for you.”

Yunho smiled encouragingly, Seonghwa shot you an eager nod with stuffed cheeks, Wooyoung squeezed your elbow, and with the deepest sigh you blink your eyes in consent.

“Fine, I’ll be there and Yeosang will too.”

“What?” Yeosang’s head whips to you from where he was slipping into the bench beside Wooyoung.

Who is fighting Seonghwa for his burger.

“I’ll explain later.”

Wooyoung taps his arm once his burger has been rescued. But Yeosang continues to bounce a confused stare from you to the fraternity across from you.

“Lovely!” Hongjoong claps his hands together excitedly, like the mad magician he is.

PART 4: INVITATIONS

You release a deep sigh, thumb skimming the text invite that Yunho had dropped in your group chat last weekend.

“You sure you’re good to do this?”

Yeosang’s hand touches your shoulder, drawing you back into your budget uber, a squashed Nissan Leaf.

“Yea, I need a hook up and some trash frat booze to solidify the end of my shitty relationship.”

Yeosang nods in agreement, he couldn’t take much more of your dorm room hermiting. Post high school sweetheart breakup (for the second time). You’re still unsure how you were convinced to give him a second chance.

“Let's go then, looks like the party is in full swing.”

You finally look out the window, the 1940s brick craftsman is borderline radioactive with the amount of neon lights covering it inside and out.

The two of you make your way up the neatly trimmed lawn, taking care not to disrupt the group of stoners that are gazing up at the stars trying to locate the big dipper.

Yeosang’s white netted shirt glows an otherworldly purple as you descend into the black lights inside the house.

You’d chosen a comfortable party fit. But did take Yeosang’s advice and threw on the top he’d suggested. Hoping that the magic it was doing for your cleavage was enough to get you laid tonight.

The two of you locate a familiar face among the crowd; Hongjoong is sitting on the stairs carefully rolling a blunt. You lick your lips at the sight of his tongue flicking out to seal the wrapper.

Shit, you really needed to get laid tonight.

“Hey HJ,” You nod to the person leaning on the wall next to him and they smile politely back.

“Hey! I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

You roll your eyes as Hongjoong hugs the two of you at once.

“As if you’d let me ditch this time.”

Hongjoong smirks at you as he reclaims his seat on the stairs.

“Where’s Woo?” Yeosang asks, hoping his friend hasn’t already gotten into trouble.

“Oh, Yunho and Woo are both downstairs, they’re doing a little dance thing.”

Hongjoong passed the blunt he’d been rolling to his companion. Waving his hand dismissively towards the entry of another room.

“Through the kitchen right?” Yeosang says, slipping his hand in yours, tugging you in what you can only imagine is the direction of the kitchen.

“Mmhmm.” Hongjoong murmurs, sending you a wink as you slip into the crowd, “good luck!”

Yeosang guides you in front of him once you locate the basement stairs. You’re thankful for all the brightness of the yellow rope lighting as you clamber down the sticky stairs. The music reaches your ears immediately.

“Oh my god, are we in 2012? Who the fuck is playing Booty Wurk?”

“Haven't you seen the new TikTok dance?”

“No.”

You and Yeosang descend the final layer of stairs just in time for the first chorus and an eyeful of your childhood best friend with a cap low over his eyes dancing in perfect sync with Wooyoung to the older R&B song.

Yeosang’s gasping face is a mirror of yours when you turn to him.

The two of you take up real estate on the stairs to watch their little show above the heads of the gathered college crowd.

You screech as the hip rolls start, and Yeosang shakes you as your two friends glide through the crowd. Dancing a path until Wooyoung is on his knees and you notice the person filming him. Wooyoung tugs the brim of his hat and slams the camera away.

The crowd screams, engulfing the boys in hugs and cheers. The two of you join in the cheers, before trying to get their attention.

“WOO! YUNHO!” You shout, waving your hands.

Yunho’s head snaps up and a grin fills his face as he comes to scoop you off the stairs in a spinning hug.

“You made it!” His smile widens when he sets you down.

“Yea, yea no big deal” you wave his excitement off.

“I want you to meet someone, where did he go…” Yunho breaks off as he scans the room.

“Can I least get a drink off before you start forcing socialization on me?”

Your pre-hookup jitters have made a reappearance, and you’re secretly wishing you had snuck off to get high with Hongjoong instead.

He laughs, “ok, ok. Woo? Yeo?”

Their heads pop up and they push away from their perches against the wall where they had been reviewing the dance video, to join you. The four of you weave through bodies to the fraternity's wet bar.

Yunho sets to work mixing up some drinks when another T-Pain song scratches across the speakers, and Wooyoung shouts in delight as the whole crowd starts singing offkey to Buy U A Drank.

Your best friend shakes his head laughing to himself.

“What?”

“I know where he is now,” Yunho wags his brows at you as he passes a cup to you and Yeosang who is watching the screaming crowd with confused curiosity.

“I can’t see anything!” You turn to Yunho, as he takes a sip of his drink regarding you over the rim with mischievous eyes.

He taps the bar counter, “hop up here.”

He sets his cup down on the other side and lifts you into the counter before you have time to think.

A small circle has formed around three people. In the center is a guy with dyed silver hair, shaggy and falling across his eyes.

“That’s Song Mingi,” Yunho smirks up at you.

Ahhh, mystery fratboy finally has a last name.

You roll your eyes back at him, as if hadn’t been sending you propaganda of his high school friend the two weeks leading up to the party.

Both of you turn back to the dancers, and you take a big gulp of your drink as he starts body rolling along with the others. The exception is- his gyrations are ridiculously fluid putting the other two dancers to shame.

“Fine, he’s cute” you yield, and Yunho leans into the side of your legs with a triumphant laugh.

“He’s more than cute, he has perfect proportions,” Yunho takes another sip of his drink before turning his face to yours, “still wanna test him out for me?” Yunho whispers against your cheek, his hand giving your knee a squeeze.

Your eyes couple briefly before yours drift to Yunho’s smiling lips, and you grant him a nod and a quick peck.

“He has to fuck well with moves like that,” Wooyoung tugs on Yeosang’s arm, and the other guy rolls his eyes.

“Wait, why is everyone confused whether Mingi is good in bed or not?”

Your question goes unanswered. Leaving you vaguely worried that you’ve been roped into popping someone’s cherry. But Yunho would do that to you.

Would he?

“That’s the one?” Yeosang questions you and Yunho, to which you both nod.

Yeosang purses his lips surveying the dance moves, he himself is not interested in the same shenanigans as Yunho and Wooyoung. He had simply come to grab a free drink and deliver you to Yunho.

Or take you home if you weren’t feeling up to it.

“He does have pretty proportions,” Yeosang nods, mutually agreeing with Yunho.

Wooyoung slaps Yeosang across the chest, “Mingi has pretty everything you should see his-”

“Agh.”

Yeosang slaps his hand over Wooyoung’s mouth, face contorted in disgust at the oversharing.

“Do I want to know?” You query Yunho.

“I honestly have no idea, Mingi still hasn’t been with a guy to my knowledge or hooked up with anyone since he transferred.”

Oh, maybe that’s why everyone’s so unsure if he’s good in bed or not.

“We went skinny dipping!”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes while stealing a sip of your drink.

“Ahhh…” Yunho wags his eyebrows, “with San?”

Wooyoung sends Yunho a glare at the mention of Yunho’s opposing frat president, “San stood guard.”

Yunho and Wooyoung appear to be having an argument with their eyes, one that you and Yeosang have apparently not been clued in on. As Yeosang looks at you with confused brows and you shrug in response.

Time to diffuse this before it escalates.

“I really need to meet this DJ.”

You steal your cup back from Wooyoung as another 2000’s club hit comes on.

“Oh, it's just Seonghwa! He wants to see you both,” Wooyoung’s festering mood quickly dissolves as he turns to lead the way to the makeshift DJ booth.

“Just Hwa,” You and Yeosang share a secret smile.

Yeosang had developed a small crush on the upperclassman, something about his eyebrows and fluid personality.

You slip off the counter and Yunho’s lips brush your ear, “that’s your other surprise.”

“Mine or Yeosang’s?”

You laugh lightly, nudging Yeosang in front of you.

By the time you shuffle through all the bodies Mingi is also waiting at the booth. Chatting eagerly to Seonghwa, who is in full alter ego, DJ Mito gear.

Wooyoung excitedly begins to introduce you and Yeosang when Mingi blurts out, “the one that needs to get laid.”

“To clarify, that is not me,” Yeosang raises his hand in earnest.

All of you laugh at both of their honesty. Mingi flushes suddenly dissolving into a giant puppy in front of you, staring at his shoes.

Oh, now this you can definitely work with.

“Well, it’s true.” You shrug, “and you’re the one that’s been selected to take care of that situation for me?”

Mingi looks shyly at you under his brow top teeth worrying his bottom lip before he gives a nod.

You stifle a groan and take a sip of your drink, or more accurately, down it.

Seonghwa’s attention turns back to mixing the music, one ear if his headphones off to listen to your group to the best of his multitasking capability.

Yunho’s laughs and bumps Mingi with his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, she doesn't bite…that hard.”

He teases, draping an arm across Mingi’s shoulders. You clock how Mingi leans eagerly into Yunho’s touch.

Interesting.

Yeosang catches your observing, raising his eyebrows at you to gather your attention.

“You good?” Yeosang mouths and you nod in return, eyes flicking to Seonghwa but Yeosang shakes his head in dismissal.

“Next time,” you mouth back at him and his cheeks flush.

“Yeo come dance with me!”

Wooyoung tugs on Yeosang’s hands, sloshing punch everywhere.

Yeosang rolls his eyes in tender annoyance, “after I wash this off my hands.”

“I’ve got a couple of towels,” Seonghwa tosses one to Yeosang, as Wooyoung snatches the cup to chug the remnants of his drink.

“There! Now let's dance.”

Woo bounces as Yeosang purposely takes his time in drying himself off.

Your eyes flit back to Yunho, who is whispering something to Mingi as Yeosang delicately dabs his hands with the towel. Yunho turns to kiss your temple before collecting a needy Wooyoung, a reluctant Yeosang and pushing Mingi towards you.

“Take care of her Mingles.”

Before you have time to object, three of your friends melt into the crowd and Seonghwa sends you a conspiratorial wink.

Mingi looks up at you from under his bangs, “wanna dance?”

You flash him a startled smile and nod, pulling his hands from his pockets and slinking through the crowd together to a little spot on the floor.

Through the forest of arms, you see Yeosang and Wooyoung with arms draped across each other's shoulders, foreheads touching and hips undulating to the beat. Yunho dances behind them with a mutual friend from a sorority, his eyes find yours and he wags his brows as if he was smirking with his eyes.

Mingi’s hands switch from shy to confident as he turns you to face him, slotting you over his leg and fingers biting softly into your hips. You laugh warmly at his boldness and loop your arms around his neck and roll in time with him. He beams down at you.

“What?” You tilt your head in question.

“Should have known that all of Yunho’s friends can dance.”

Mingi’s hands drift up your back to spin you around, facing away from him.

“I hardly call this dancing,” you call above the music.

His laugh rumbles against your spine and you let him press his front into your backside, your ass molding into the cavern of his hips. Allowing your head to drop back onto his shoulder, swaying your body in tandem with Mingi’s, as his hands skim across the front of your hips.

You make it through three songs, dazedly watching your friends through the crowd. Yunho’s fellow Greek friend has disappeared. He and Yeosang have sandwiched Wooyoung in a slow grind to the current song. Yunho keeps stealing reassuring glances at you and Mingi between the gyrating field of bodies.

Eventually you lose sight of them, sinking into the pleasant hum of your head and thrum of your body. A combination of the bass from Seonghwa’s music and the drink Yunho had mixed for you.

Mingi’s thumb skims under the hem of your top to stroke your stomach, causing you movements to stutter a little bit as he tentatively presses your clothed pussy into his thigh from behind.

“Hi.” Mingi breathes caging you in, “do you want to go upstairs where it is quieter?”

You tilt your head, “eager to get started already?” you tease.

“Something like that,” he nibbles his bottom lip again, waiting for your consenting nod before taking your hand and guiding you back towards the stairs.

On your way up to Mingi’s room you catch sight of Yunho making out with Wooyoung, while Yeosang taps away on his phone ignoring the pair.

A feat which you found so difficult that it causes you to miss a step and fall against Mingi.

Wooyoung is perched on the bar with Yunho between his legs, devouring one another. But that isn’t what causes your stuttering footwork on the stairs, it's Wooyoung’s pretty hands drifting down to clench equal handfuls of Yunho’s ass.

“Are you okay?”

Mingi’s voice snaps you out of your gaping, his warm eyes calling you back to him.

You give him a quick smile, “I will be in a minute.”

PART 5: THE PLEDGING

This is how you ended up in your current position, sprawled under the massive man named Mingi. He hadn’t even kissed you yet and your blood was already racing each time he looks up at you from under his lashes.

“Are you still okay with this?” His fingertips stroke your cheek.

You nod your mouth parting as his thumb pressed into your bottom lip. Mingi’s resolve was lost when the tip of your tongue flicked against the pad of his finger, a soft moan escaping him before pressing his lips to yours.

The two of you quickly find a dance of lips, teeth and tongue. Mingi licks eagerly into your mouth, almost stealing your air with how hard he sucks on your tongue. You nibble his bottom lip in response. The two of you shudder against each other, gasping for air before diving right back into ravaging one another's mouths.

You let your hands explore his body, over the loose black tee he has tucked into the matching pants. Pulling it loose so that you can trail your fingers up the soft skin of his spine.

Mingi nudges your nose with his, signaling you to tilt your head so that he could get more access. Your pelvis rocks up into his when he sucks your tongue, and he rolls back. A ghost of the moves you had seen earlier.

You tuck your hands into his fluffy faded hair and tug at the nape. Mingi moans low and deep into the back of your throat, the vibrations sending your nipples hard. As if he knew, his hand skidded up to squeeze a breast through your shirt and bra. You nip at his lip in response.

He chuckles low, pulling back to meet your gaze, “do you even know my name?”

“Mingi,” you whisper, and you watch how his pupils dilate in response.

Fueling your next assault, looping your arms around his neck and craning up to kiss each side of his jaw, “Song.”

A kiss to his cheek, “Mingi.”

Lastly, a teasing kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Mingi growls and the two of you begin frantically shedding your clothing, as soon as you are naked, he lifts you up the bed to rest against the pillows. He reclines back on his heels, the swell in his boxers looking dangerously bigger than you had anticipated.

“Still want to do this?”

Mingi laughs huskily at your consistently eager nod.

“I’ll go slow,” His voice oozes with reassurance.

You swallow and meet his eyes, sprawled before him like the last dinner, completely nude and exposed. His fingertips dimple into the top of your knees as he drinks you in.

Mingi slowly opens your knees, still testing you for any signs of push back or rejection of consent. You feel your timidness subside when Mingi’s eyes locked eyes with the swell of your pussy, when he couldn’t contain his tongue from flicking out to lick his lips.

Mingi reaches out to run his middle finger firmly down the slick valley of your folds, causing your hips to jerk as he bumps over tender the nerves of your clit.

“Sensitive?”

He looks up at you from under his lashes again, and it takes everything in you to not squeeze your thighs shut and moan

“Yea,” you huff.

“It’s been a while and even then, my ex was always too tired to take care of my needs.”

“Of course he was,” Mingi let out a sarcastic laugh as he thrust two fingers inside you.

You gasp clutching the sheets, hips chasing his hand on their own accord.

“Are you okay?” He asks, gaze rising with the roll of your body until he meets your eyes, “I need to loosen you up a bit, so I don’t hurt you.”

You give a tight nod, breathing deeply through your nose as tendrils of arousal begin to spread their roots as he starts working his fingers. Your body is so keyed up from lack of intimate touch that you’re dousing his hand in what feels like seconds.

“Just relax and enjoy yourself.”

Mingi curls his fingers against the front wall of your cunt and his thumb lazily circles your clit as you pump your hips against his hand in blatant desperation. Chasing the foreign feeling of someone else bringing you to orgasm.

Coming so fast, that you grind your teeth together and clutch his brawny forearm as your body bows off the bed. The first orgasm coasting over you, like your first gasp of air.

Mingi moans at the sight of you and adds another finger, extending your orgasm until you’re trying to roll over to escape it. His other hand pins you to the bed by your thigh. You’re affixed, watching Mingi as he watches you with parted lips. Your hips meeting his thrusting hand and you convulse again. Mingi groans, his hand on your thigh tightening.

“Mingi-Mingi, ngh,” you claw at his arm as you feel the release gush around his fingers.

“That’s enough, I like it a little rough. Please, I want to feel you.”

You’re tugging his wrist and drawing your hips away. Mingi leans forward with a soft huff, brushing his lips against yours before grabbing a condom from the windowsill.

You stare at the sight above you, his rippling abdomen, the impulsive thoughts winning and you raked a hand gently down his stomach. He tenses in response and goose bumps erupt across his chest.

You drag your nails down the divide of his muscles slipping beneath the soft fabric of his fitted boxers and tilt your head back to meet his watchful eyes.

“You’re so soft.”

Mingi lets out a surprised laugh at your compliment, his head dropping to your shoulder.

“Would you like to keep touching me, or me to get started?” He whispers, lips kissing your earlobe.

You tuck your toes into the sides of his boxers and tug them down as a response. Mingi raises an eyebrow at you.

“My ex wasn’t always sex repulsed by me.”

You shrug and Mingi dives to plant another soft kiss on your lips as your fingertips idly stroke his length. Your thumb tracing the pearl of precum around the tip.

“Careful Mingi, you’ll make me think this was all because of me.”

You return his kisses as he mutters an, “it is” against your lips.

A hand coming up to grasp your breast, “all for these and this,” his large hand cups your damp pussy as he sinks back onto his heels.

His thumb strokes your bottom lip, “and really for this mouth and that smile.”

Mingi groans when you nip the tip of his thumb. His teeth rip open the condom in his other hand and he wastes no time in rolling it over his intimidating erection.

“Ready for me?”

Suddenly the shyness washes over him again, he fists his length, hand lightly bracing on your thigh and you can’t stop another eager nod in response.

Mingi holds true to his promise of going slow, rubbing his sheathed erection over your wet folds until you’re begging him to stop. Cunt clenching around nothing, needing to feel the stretch you know he will bring. He grips your hips, eyebrows pinching together as he lines up at your entrance.

You gasp as the fat head of his tip breaks inside, your hips chasing his cock to seek more and Mingi complies with a grunt of his own. Sinking slowly into you, his long fingers spreading your lower lips open to make his leisurely dive smoother for the both of you.

Your lungs feel empty by the time he is fully seated inside of you. His arms slide under your shoulders to hold the nape of your neck as he rocks upwards into you. The movement stroking places you have never felt.

“Oh fuck-" you clutch at his bicep, “Mingi.”

He kisses you again, mouth just as eager as earlier, rolling his hips deep into you as his tongue glosses over yours. Mingi rocks with a controlled place as your body tightens on itself again. His mouth seeks out your breast, tongue laving at your nipple and you gasp as he grazes it with his teeth.

“You like it a little rough right?” He looks up at you as his mouth sucks your nipple behind his teeth.

You cry out a “yes!” at the sensation.

Mingi moans in response around your breast. His hands reach down to wrap your legs around his hips as he sinks impossibly deeper against you. Stretching your entrance with his thick base in a way that makes you lose anything left of your resolve.

You’re filled up entirely with him, it doesn’t take long until you feel the tension building in your core, your walls squeezing around him.

Mingi abandons his marking of your breast to watch you. Clutching his ass, thrusting frantically into his stilled movement as he presses upwards into you so that it’s focused against the sensitive ridges of your glory spot.

“Say my name,” Mingi grunts.

His hands bruise into the valley of where your hips meet your thighs.

“Mingi,” your strangled whine comes, as heat blooms up your neck and across your cheekbones.

He groans holding himself firm, hands gliding up your ribcage to give each of your breasts a synchronized squeeze.

“That’s it baby, use me all you want, this is about you.”

Mingi puffs out short pants, not unaffected by your movements either. Squeezing your breasts entirely with a pitchy whine of his own, as your legs shudder around his thighs.

“Mingi,” you beg and his hand slips to your jaw as your eyes flutter open to meet his.

Mingi’s lips connect with yours, tongues sweeping against each other. Until your head presses back into the pillow as your orgasm crests, as tight as his hand fisting the hair at the nape of your neck.

Mingi starts thrusting into you again, his lips parting, gazes fluttering open to meet and never leaving yours as he picks up speed. Drifting you through your second orgasm or the night.

“Shit,” Mingi grunts in response.

Hips lazily rolling into you, in a way you didn’t know was possible. The top of his pelvis rubbing deliciously against your swollen clit.

“Mingi-”

He moans, “louder.”

“Mingi!”

You cry out in pleasure, and he lets go of his controlled strokes. One final crushing kiss to your lips he reaches down and throws your legs over his shoulders. The two of you moan in unison as he swirls wide circles into your cunt.

“How could anyone ever leave this pussy alone?”

Mingi pins your knees to your shoulders, thrusting your breasts between them obscenely, his eyebrows converging at the sight of you, his breathing becoming ragged.

“Oh god baby,” he sinks his weight into you, stealing your air.

You gasp and tremble in bliss at the depth his dick has reached.

“Mingi,” you breathe.

He continues to rock in and out with half pulled strokes. Ensuring he continues to fill you up entirely, not wanting to miss an inch of your canal seizing around him at his inviting intrusion.

“You look so good like this,” his gaze slips up to meet yours.

Your eyes flick down to the folds of your stomach, your tits bulging between the bracket of your thighs and whimper as you watch Mingi pull almost completely out suddenly and press back in slowly.

Who the fuck is this kid?

“Let's just do this a couple of times, please.”

You give him half a nod. Too taken by watching him. Gasping in rapture each time his body shudders, as you squeeze around his tip when he matches it to the entrance of your pussy.

Your insides fighting each thrust back in, a budding feeling so intense you can barely hold your eyes open. Sharp sounds leaving your lips in little uhts and uhs. Nails embedding into the caps of his shoulders.

“Does it feel good?” Mingi huffs, sounding strained.

Finally.

“So good Mingi,” you whimper.

“You're so wet for me, fuck. Can you come again?”

You gasp a “yes!”

Mingi thrusts in, pressing his hips up into your clit again causing the orgasm to begin unfurling.

“Oh god” you whimper, “they keep coming.”

Mingi lets out a stutter of groans intermingled with a raspy laugh, when your cunt clamps down on him. His jaw tightens and you fall apart when he firmly wedges himself inside, hand coming up to press on your stomach. You cry out silently as he repeats the motion until he gets what he is seeking.

You spray the lower part of his stomach, the cute little swell that sits between the peaks of his hip bones and he lets a ragged breath at the sight of you ruined underneath him.

“Oh oh-oh,” you thrash as your legs try to straighten at the sensation.

“Fuck yes!”

Mingi’s resolve finally breaks, hooking his thumbs into the ditch of your knees and letting loose. Hips pounding against yours as the waves of your orgasm roll back to form a new crest. His face hovering above yours, eyes lowered to watch how you take him, and he groans, gaze lifting to meet your lidded one.

You clutch at the blankets, face titling and greeting Mingi’s lips sloppily as you pant into each other's mouths between haphazard kisses.

Your body’s connecting with wet laps and tight thrusts. His damp chest brushing your stiffened nipples in an opportune way that has you coming again. The hardest one of the night, from the multiple points of stimulation happening to your body.

Maybe the hardest one ever.

Mingi’s body jerks and he lets out a booming version of your name as your insides clench him, spilling his own release into the condom as your orgasm seizes his cock. You cry out louder than all your grunts and moans before.

He lets your legs go and they numbly butterfly open around his waist, as your body trembles under his continuous motions.

Mingi whispers your name in repetition as he tosses his head back, toned hips working the both of you through the aftershocks.

You open your eyes when the roaring in your ears subsides and Mingi’s are still closed, his forehead pressed to yours. One hand braced on the pillow beside your head and the other idly stroking your calf.

“Fuck,” he swallows loudly.

You let out a breathy laugh and his eyes flutter open, and slowly, while holding your gaze he shifts back. Kissing each of your thighs as he lowers them, hands spreading across the soft of your stomach and rubbing back down to your front of your hips

“Are you ok?”

“Yea, very ok.”

Mingi smiles scooting back to slowly pull out. You shudder as the warmth of your own release leaks out of you and Mingi moans.

“You came so hard,” his thumb circles your entrance causing your hips to lift off the bed and a lewd moan to escape you- “don’t move.”

Mingi removes his hand, slipping off the bed to remove the condom. Tying it in a knot and tossing it into the bin by his desk.

He returns to you, erection still bobbing as he looks down at you with those hungry, dragon eyes. Seeking treasure.

“Can I?”

His eyes flick to yours, tongue peeking out the corner of his lips.

“Can you what?”

You shuffle up on tired elbows and yelp as Mingi sends you right back flat, tugging you to the end of the bed as he lowers into a crouch.

“What do you think, can I clean you up?”

You shift up again, nodding a little shyly and Mingi grins devilishly before opening you wide to him again.

“I’ll make it worth the trouble for you.”

“Trouble for me-umph.”

The question dies in your throat. There is no kitten licking or test kisses, he dives right in mouth suctioned to your dripping core. Sucking licking and moaning into the sensitive flesh.

“Oh fuck, Mingi!”

Your head drops between your shoulders as his hands wrap around the tops of your thighs, his nose bumping your clit with the passionate way he’s devouring your pussy.

“What happened to the bashful guy downsta-ah,” you break off into a wail.

Mingi moans as you shudder, undeniably leaking more arousal into his waiting mouth, you grasp at his hand, and he takes hold of your fingertips as the other sinks into his hair and he groans into your cunt when you pull.

“Mingi!”

Shamelessly rubbing your pelvis into his face as the tension starts to tighten again. Your brain is on fire with the feeling of his mouth on you, in combination with the pleasant ache in your core where he had just been. It’s all too much, and all too good at the same time.

“Mingi, Mingi, Mingi,” you chant softly, “oh Mingi!”

He laps at you again and again in a way either of you can’t seem to get enough of by the telltale way he’s got a crushing grasp on your thighs as if his broad shoulders aren’t enough to keep you open to him. Mingi groans into your cunt, tongue flexing inside your entrance. Just as you're climaxing nicely you feel his teeth graze your clit.

Stars explode, never in your life had you felt your vision go dark and white at the same time. You cry out so strangely that you don’t even recognize your own voice. Your spine arching until the band snaps and sends you collapsing back against the bed, wheezing for air.

“Too much?”

You feel rather than see Mingi leave a kiss to your sex swollen pussy.

“What-what, the fuck was that?”

He huffs a laugh through his nose, “told you I’d make it worth it.”

Mingi slips from between your thighs and the bed sags on either side of your ribs, his lower half cloaking yours with welcome warmth as your eyes finally regain their ability to open.

You touch his cheek, gazing at him with newfound admiration, “who taught you to fuck like this?”

Mingi laughs and lowers his eyes almost bashfully, you groan. His intermittent shyness will no doubt be the death of you, and Yunho.

PART SIX: BREAKFAST

“Hey baby, we are going to miss breakfast if you don’t wake up.”

Mingi’s deep timbre melodiously sweeps into your dreamless sleep.

You groan, stretching around his body that’s sitting next to you on the bed. Eyes drifting open to find a much more scholarly version of the demon that turned your body into the aching, sated mess it is now.

“Are those real?”

Mingi touches the wire frame of his glasses, laughing shyly.

“Yea.”

“Mmm, so cute,” you pull him down for a kiss.

Mingi moans into your moan and suddenly your body isn’t so sore anymore. Hands drifting to the open collar of the buttons on his henley.

“Come on, our friends are waiting for us to head to breakfast.”

You groan in protest, kissing his neck.

“I could eat you for breakfast.”

Mingi moans low, his hand supporting your neck in a way that tells you he’s as close to giving up on food as you are, but his growling stomach makes you stop. His cheeks and ears turn pink

He retrieves a t-shirt and sweats that had been sitting at the foot of the bed, “picked you some of my stuff so you don’t have to do the walk of shame.”

“Careful, I might develop a little crush on a thoughtful guy like you.”

He nuzzles you again, “get dressed please, I want to eat and then come back and have you again. If that’s ok with you?”

Mingi pulls back to meet your gaze, puppy eyes on full display. Internally you’re crumbling into a swooning pile of nothing.

Fuck.

“Yes, please.” You peck him on the lips before climbing out from under his covers.

Mingi sits back against the headboard and watches you slip into the clothes he’s lending you. His eyes furrowed in thought.

“Why didn’t you just hook up with Yunho?” Mingi asks from his sprawled position on the bed, taking a swig of the water he’d put on the nightstand for you.

“Because Yunho and I never have sex without a third,” You tug his shirt down, “and he wanted me fuck you first, before he takes you or us to bed.”

You laugh as Mingi sputters and chokes on the water, his cheeks flaming.

You climb into his lap completely dressed, “not that you really needed a test run in my opinion.”

“Does that mean, all of us…together?”

You bite back a moan as Mingi looks at you with the widest puppy eyes you never knew he could display.

You raise an eyebrow, “are you trying to convince me to skip breakfast?”

“Breakfast first, we'll need our energy.”

© COPYRIGHT 2021 - 2024 by kiestrokes All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be reproduced without written permission from the author. This includes translations.

🗝️Note: Here's the long version of what happened: I wrote a massive part of this fic last year in August. But had a minor surgery in October that kind of foiled any progress and spent most of the fall/winter traveling around to see friends. Took on a bigger job role at the end of December and was in training until the 1st of March. Had some insane (and annoying) health issues happen from end of March - June 😒 that have furthered the issues with my brain. Then uhhh, hurricane Helene decided to make her way into the Appalachians'. I am truly suprised in myself that I managed to get this posted today, after the craziness of this week alone. We are still without water, having to shower at my aunts. Work was so far on another level, that its not even on earth. And we had an emergency vet visit. BUT ITS HERE. So sorry that it’s taken me so long to get this out. Hope it was worth the wait!

[chukeis]

The quiet hum of Kei’s apartment always made Yn feel at ease. She lounged on the couch, her feet tucked beneath her, lazily scrolling through Kei’s phone. He didn’t mind he never had. They were open with each other like that. She would often scroll through his camera roll, teasing him about random pictures he’d taken everything from sunsets to candid shots of her that she didn’t even know existed.

Kei was at his desk, typing something on his laptop, completely absorbed in his work. Yn giggled to herself as she came across a series of goofy selfies he’d taken while she wasn’t looking. She made a mental note to tease him about them later.

But then she stumbled upon those pictures. Her fingers froze.

They were pictures of them intimate, raw, moments that were meant to stay between the sheets and their memories. They’d taken them during one of their more passionate nights together, just for fun, a playful exchange at the time. Yn had completely forgotten about them, assuming Kei had deleted them after their little joke.

But here they were, still saved on his phone.

“Kei?” Yn’s voice was a mix of surprise and slight panic. “You still have these?”

“Hmm?” Kei didn’t even look up from his laptop, too engrossed in whatever he was typing.

Yn held up his phone, waving it in his direction. “The photos. You know, those photos. The ones we took a while back?”

He finally glanced over, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah. Why?”

Her eyes widened, and she stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “What do you mean, why? Why haven’t you deleted them yet? What if they accidentally spread or someone saw them?”

Kei chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. “Relax. They’re not going anywhere. It’s not like I’m sharing them around.”

“Still,” Yn pressed, her voice rising slightly. “It’s risky. What if someone gets a hold of your phone? You can’t just keep those kind of pictures lying around!”

Kei leaned forward, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Nah, I like having them around.” He paused for dramatic effect, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “I still use them sometimes, you know… when you’re not here.”

Yn’s face immediately flushed, and she smacked his arm with the nearest pillow. “Kei!”

He laughed, his deep voice filling the room. “What? It’s true. You’re not always around, and I’ve got to… handle things on my own sometimes.”

“You’re disgusting!” she squealed, covering her face with her hands, but she couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. As much as she wanted to be mad, Kei’s nonchalant honesty and teasing always managed to disarm her.

“Disgusting, huh?” Kei smirked, standing up and walking over to her. He plucked his phone from her hand with ease, sitting down beside her. “You didn’t seem to think that when we were taking those photos.”

Yn narrowed her eyes at him, her face still flushed. “That’s different! We were in the moment, and I thought you’d delete them after.”

“Why would I do that?” Kei said with a playful shrug. “I like having a reminder of how lucky I am. Plus, I kind of want to show people who you belong to. It’d save me the trouble of explaining.”

Yn’s jaw dropped in mock horror. “You wouldn’t dare.”

He grinned, enjoying the reaction. “Maybe I would.”

Before he could say another word, Yn swung the pillow at him again, hitting him square in the chest. “Kei! That’s so gross!” she laughed, though her heart fluttered a little at the thought of Kei’s possessive side coming out in such a teasing way.

He chuckled, catching the pillow mid-swing and pulling her close. “I’m kidding, Yn. I’d never share them. They’re just for me. Just for us.” His tone shifted slightly, a hint of sincerity breaking through the playful façade.

Yn looked up at him, her mock anger fading as she saw the serious look in his eyes. “You better not, Tsukki,” she said softly, using his nickname to let him know she was only half-serious. “But seriously, you should probably delete them. I mean, for safety.”

Kei sighed dramatically, leaning his head back against the couch. “Fine, fine. I’ll delete them. But I’m keeping at least one. For… personal use.” He gave her a cheeky smile, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, resting her head on his shoulder.

“And yet, you love me,” Kei teased, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her closer.

Yn rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it, leaning into him with a content sigh. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t let me catch you looking at those again, or you’re in for another pillow to the face.”

Kei grinned. “Deal.

(Thanks for reading lmaooooo) 😭

[miguelhugger2099]

Omg first off LOVE!!! your wiring literally *chef’s kiss* imagine Miguel x reader suggestive smut where they’ve been both super busy and haven’t had time for each other and tension has been building up to this point.

Worth the Wait

nonie im gonna sob. not only was i so excited to see you be my first ask, this is also my first ever written smut!! aaaa im so nervous so please have mercy !! i jumped on my laptop as soon as i saw this and its so late right now haha im a little tired but i didnt want you to wait at all !! im not sure if i wrote too much or too little lol regardless i really hope you enjoy and if not i'm more than happy to make something else and thank you sososo much for the compliment <3333 the ask wasnt specified if it was fem!reader or not so i made it gn!reader just in case <3 Miguel x GN!Reader, Smut, too embarrassed to proofread it, Word Count: 3,681

“Hey, Miguel, do you think you could stay late tonight? Boss wants you in the lab for testing.” A short woman popped her head in his room, her hair neatly tucked in a high bun. Miguel stopped his pacing in his office, his glasses lifted on his head using it as a headband to pull back his fringe. He placed the beakers in his hands down and took off his gloves while ruby eyes glanced at the clock on the wall. He was supposed to leave in a couple minutes.

Miguel’s eyebrows scrunched up, tsking under his breath and turning to look at the woman. “Can’t someone else be there? Peter can oversee it instead.” He pleaded, exasperated. She gave him a sympathetic look and sighed.

“Sorry, Miguel. He specifically asked for you.” Not wanting to be the bearer of bad news anymore, she slipped out the door and shut it behind her, leaving Miguel to groan and slump his shoulders. He stared up at the ceiling and closed his eyes, breathing in and out to calm his anger. It seemed like these days all he ever did was overtime at work. He fiddled with the golden band around his left ring finger, his other hand twirling it mindlessly for some comfort and also a silent apology to you.

His heart ached as he made his way to his desk, picking up his phone and dialing your number. He licked his lips while he brought the phone up to his ear. Miguel wasn’t prepared to hear your voice, happy and hopeful and only be met with disappointment.

“Miggy?” You answer happily. A small smile forms on Miguel’s face.

“H-hey, baby. You doing alright?” He asked, taking a seat on his swivel chair and leaning back to stare at the photo of you two on his desktop.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m finishing up dinner. Are you on your way home?”

Miguel’s smile dropped a bit, realizing once more why he had called in the first place. “Um, about that, mi corazón. I have to–”

“You have to stay the night, don’t you?” You cut him off, disappointment evident in your voice. Miguel’s heart clenched at the sound.

“I…I do. Believe me, I don’t have a choice or I’d be there in a heartbeat.”

“It’s okay, really. I’m not mad or anything. This month has been hectic for both of us. I just… I just miss you is all.” You speak softly over the phone. He missed you more. He wanted to be there.

“Lo siento, bebé. You know how much I hate being away from you.” He apologized. “How about tomorrow, huh? I have off. We can go out and get a drink. Or maybe stay home? I know how much you love my cooking.” He offered, his heart beating faster at the thought of spending time with you again. That feeling sank when he heard you let out a quick puff of air in annoyance.

“I can’t. I’m working this weekend. Six days in a row,” You rolled your eyes just thinking about it. Your job always had a way of pushing your buttons. Miguel’s jaw clenched as he heard you. Miguel never really liked this recent event of work taking up his time from seeing you. He hated it even more when your job took you away from him. “God, I really thought we’d have tonight together at least.”

Miguel was quick to reassure you. “Hey, hey. Listen. We’ll have a day together. Eventually there’ll be a day for just us–all about us, I promise.”

When Miguel had arrived home, it could barely be even classified as night time with the way the sun had been peeking through the horizon. He dragged his body through the door, a cold home awaiting him. After kicking off his shoes, he dumped his coat and bag on the floor and made his way to the kitchen, eating the leftovers of the dinner you two were supposed to eat together before trudging back to bed. He saw you lying there on your side and he felt exhaustion drag him down.

Miguel slipped in under the covers beside you after striping himself of his clothes, leaving him in his underwear and slipped his arm around you. He pressed your body flushed against his, Miguel’s larger body enveloping yours protectively. His nose buried itself in your neck, his lips grazing your shoulder. His hand rubbed your stomach and then slid up to rub up and down your waist. Sneakily, he ran his hand under your shirt while his lips left small kisses on your neck and shoulder. You stirred awake as you felt the sudden touch of someone else.

Miguel felt you move so he pulled you tighter to him, keeping you caged in that position. “Mig…?” You called out sleepily. You felt something poke you from behind and groaned. Miguel continued to kiss your neck, his teeth coming out to gently nip at the skin making you shiver. He simply hummed his response.

“‘M home.” He murmured. He slowly turned you on your back, towering over you slightly with your leg between his. Miguel’s arm rested by your head while his attacks became more intimate. You leaned your head back, allowing him more access and his other hand on your hip squeezed you in appreciation. You bent your leg up on the bed slightly, your knee caressing his growing bulge in his boxers. Miguel let out a low groan, his hips grinding on you for some friction.

Your hands finally reached up to his hair, curling your fingers around his soft wavy brown locks. Miguel took this as an opportunity to capture your lips with his, muting the soft moans you were letting out. His own knee spread your legs apart, rubbing in between them to add to your pleasure. You felt a jolt of pleasure run down your spine, bucking your hips up instinctively. Miguel sighed against you, his hand on that had been gripping your hip, moved down to the hem of your pajama pants. He teasingly pulled it down, letting it snap back to your body and making you whine. You felt him grin through your kiss. Cheeky bastard.

Before he could ease his hand down your pants, your alarm had blared through the room, shocking the both of you and separating yourselves off each other. Miguel scowled while you clambered up to grab your phone. “The hell was that?” He grunted, displeased with being interrupted. You fumbled with turning it off, placing a hand on your chest to calm your fast beating heart.

“My alarm. I have a morning shift.” You moaned, tossing your phone back on the counter and standing up from the bed. Miguel blinked twice before getting up with you. He reached out his hand to grab yours in an attempt to stop you.

“Woah, woah, hey–what’s the rush?” He asked, turning you around and cupping your cheek. “We can at least have these couple minutes, can’t we?” His voice dropped an octave, leaning down to press a kiss on your cheek. Miguel tried to kiss downwards but you stopped him, albeit unwillingly.

“Amor, you know damn well how Nueva York’s traffic is in the morning. I’m not gonna be late and get my ass in trouble ‘cause you can’t keep it in your pants.” You slipped from his arms with a playful roll of your eyes and walked to the kitchen. Miguel scoffed, slightly offended, his eyes watching you walk away and looking down at your ass.

“Don’t act like you weren’t enjoying it.” He grumbled, looking down at the tent in his boxers wondering what to do with it now.

For the next week, it had been nothing but just pure torture. With the month making you and Miguel work away from each other, this week was stretching that limit. When Miguel worked in the morning, you’d work at night and vice versa. Each time without fail, you managed to slip in a few teasing touches. Waking up Miguel by sitting on his lap and peppering kisses on his cheeks with his hands grinding your hips down on his hardening cock. Miguel cupping your ass and giving it a squeeze when you came home from work while he was on his way out. Both of you were on the brink of breaking by this point. These small acts were supposed to tame the fire within you, not burn it brighter.

Eventually, it was finally your day off after a long weekend. A break from customer service and passing out as soon as you got home. Miguel had work today but he texted earlier that he’d get off on the hour he was supposed to this time around. You felt bad. He’d been working so hard and today had been no different. He took a shift earlier than usual so he could come home earlier without anyone being there to suddenly ask for him to stay. Lord knows he’s pushing those forty hours into overtime.

From the bedroom, you heard the door open, keys jingling as it was turned to unlock it. You got up from the bed and peered out the door, seeing Miguel kicking off his shoes and coat while tossing his bag carelessly on the living room chair. “Welcome home.” You greeted him. He dragged his feet closer to you with his head down, the top buttons on his white button up were popped open, exposing a glimpse of his collarbone. Miguel immediately wraps his arms around you, pulling you in for a comforting hug. You followed suit, hugging him back since you sensed he probably had a rough day. He hummed in response, settling for resting his chin on your head. You stayed like that for a while just holding one another until you felt his hand run under your shirt to feel your soft skin against his calloused hands. They continued up and up your spine until your shirt was lifting up with him. “Miguel.”

“What?” He grumbled. One hand slid down under your pants, getting a quick feel of your ass and pulling your pelvis to him. You gasped and tightened your hold around him, feeling the warmth of arousal ignite in your stomach. “I need to have you. I can’t wait any longer.” His soft touching became more possessive, roughly grabbing your ass and tugging on your shirt and pants.

“Miguel.” You repeated his name, this time in a whimper. Your own hands slipped down his collared shirt and lightly scratched your nails on his large back which made him shiver. He pulled back and you saw his eyes hazed with desire, pupils blown wide.

“Please…” He whispered, his lips brushing up against yours. Your hands fell to his buttoned shirt as you looked up at him. Your heart raced in your chest–the sheer want of having you all to himself finally after weeks was too good to pass up. You nodded and the pleading look on Miguel’s face dropped as he immediately bent down to kiss you. You let out a squeak of surprise between his lips right before giving into his needs and kissing him back.

He tugged your pants down to your ankles before lifting you out of the puddle of clothes and bringing you to the bed. Once you were laid on top, you watched Miguel fumble with his belt. His large hands quickly unhooked the metal making it chime and the soft zipping sound of the leather sliding out his belt loops. He practically ripped himself free from his clothes, not even unbuttoning his shirt and just lifted it up and off his torso. You saw his girthy length, standing tall and proud with a slight red color tinged at his tip while the rest of him was a slighter darker color than his skin. His tip was already oozing with precum. A sight you had always welcomed. It became clear to you that Miguel had been thinking about this for a while–maybe all day. Miguel crawled on top of you, helping you out of your shirt and underwear and kissing you again while his hands roamed your body.

“I’ve waited so long. Did you miss me like how I missed you, cariño?” He sighed between your lips. Your hands clutched his shoulders, one leg hooking around his waist.

“Always.” You whimpered back.

“On your knees. Now.” He growled. You felt your heart skip a beat, another heartbeat going straight to your core. Stumbling, you got off your back and got on your hands and knees like Miguel wanted. This position has always made you flustered. It was both embarrassing and exhilarating not seeing what Miguel could do to you, or even get to put your hands on him–solely relying on feeling.

Perfect timing, his hands met your ass, grabbing them and massaging them. “So perfect,” He murmured. His finger grazed your aching hole where you were the most sensitive, purposefully teasing the nerves on your body. He took pleasure in the way you writhed beneath him, succumbing to his hand. His thick cock rubbed up against you, smearing his leaking fluid on you for even better access. Then ever so slowly, gliding in his fat weeping tip inside and penetrating your walls.

You both moaned in unison. The feeling of being stuffed was like finally feeling that last puzzle piece snap in place. “Uff, fuck–I’ve missed you,” He groaned, his breath shaking as he leaned over your body. His one hand held the headboard in front of him while his other hand held the plushness of your hip tightly. Miguel’s body was shaking as he entered you slowly, stretching you out after a long time of not seeing each other like this. You whimpered, falling from your hands onto your elbows as you shook with him. “Ease up, cariño, así es.” He praised, leaning back to watch his cock disappear inside you. His pride swelled at how easily he seemed to slide in you even after so long, his mouth curling into a sly smirk.

“Mi–guel…” You choked out a moan. You whined and gripped the pillow underneath your head tightly in your fists. You had forgotten just how huge Miguel was, his covered bulge was nothing compared to the real thing. Panting, you heard your heartbeat in your ears, turning your head to rest your cheek on the pillow.

Miguel’s hand left the headboard by this point, choosing instead to rest on your back, running down the curve of your spine to press your head down. You whimpered and clenched around him which made him let out a string of curses under his breath. You felt him push himself to the hilt, his balls gently smacking against the curve of your ass. He groaned, his hand on your head gripped your hair to still himself from pounding you immediately. The two of you stood there, breathing heavily while you felt each other. You could feel him throbbing inside you, twitching ever so softly. Miguel bit his lip to hinder himself from cumming on the spot with your walls convulsing around him, weakly attempting to suck him in deeper.

You wiggled your hips, bucking them back against Miguel with a pathetic whine. “M-move…plea–” You got cut off when Miguel slipped out of you, and then he slammed back inside making you scream and shake. He then began a steady pace, enough for movement but not as quick as you wanted. Still, you mewled and clutched at the sheets while his cock was ravaging your guts. The hand on your hip wrapped around your lower stomach, his bicep flexing as he held your weight up to fuck your from behind.

“Too long. It’s been too fucking long since I’ve fucked this needy hole properly.” Miguel sighed, huffing with each thrust of his hips. Your eyes rolled back and your jaw slacked open. Skin slapping echoed in the room along with the wet smack of sweat between your bodies. It was a symphony of lust and desire. An aching instinct to be reunited like this. You pleaded for more–a little quicker, a little harder– and Miguel who loved you so much didn’t want to deny either of you this ecstasy. He then used both hands to grab onto your hips and started to drag your body back and forth on his dick, drilling himself in you like a toy. Miguel used up all his frustrations of not being able to see you all this time, his eyes drinking in your writhing form while he bucked into you abandonly.

“Yes! Yes! Fuck–Miguel…!” You squealed, involuntarily squeezing him which made me grunt and buck his hips faster. You babbled nonsense while your core bubbled up the feeling of an orgasm. You screwed your eyes shut as you allowed Miguel to hump against you. He leaned over you again, pressing kisses on your back, murmuring things you could barely hear over the sound of your own moans.

Suddenly, Miguel had pulled out again leaving you feeling empty and light headed while the feeling of an impending orgasm disappeared. He let go of you, your hips bouncing on the bed without the support of his strength holding you up. You opened up your eyes, glazed with pleasure and shakily tried to look behind you. Before you could, Miguel took your body and flipped you on your back. It all happened quickly before you could even register what was happening. He took your legs and tugged your body closer to him like a ragdoll. He spread them wide then pressed them up against your chest. You lolled your head up and you saw his fringe had fallen to his forehead, sticking to it with his sweat. His chest was heaving up and down, the glow of the moonlight highlighting the carvings of his muscles perfectly–it made your breath hitch.

Miguel then loomed over you, nuzzling his head into your neck again. You leaned your head to the side making him gain more access to you. His teeth bit your soft flesh, his lips suckling your skin to leave tiny bruises along the side. “Ah–” You squirmed and gasped when you felt Miguel slide back into you again. You quickly wrapped your arms around him, your hand running through his already messy hair. You pressed his head closer, your eyes opening up hazily to stare at the ceiling while Miguel starts his pace again.

“So tight, just f’me, hm? You have no idea how much–” He moaned in between speaking, the lust clouding his mind. “H-how much I needed you. I should’ve just brought you to work, bend you over my desk and fuck you however long I want,” He shuddered at the thought, his hips stuttering while you whimpered and arched your back off the bed. “Oh, you like that?” He grinned, his voice oozing with arrogance. You nodded, your eyes shutting closed again and desperately lifting your hips to match his thrusting.

“Next time, bebé, next time. I promise. You’re doing so, so, good. You feel so good.” He slurred softly, his hips snapped harder, his cock twitching and swelling inside you.

“Mig–Mig–I can’t,” You moaned, your screams getting louder the harder Miguel went. “Oh, god, Miguel!” Miguel kissed you, swallowing all your moans while he slipped his tongue in your mouth. Your eyes rolled back and your legs wrapped around his waist the moment he let go of your thighs. His hands traveled around your body, feeling the shape of your silhouette back into his memory. He grabbed at anything he could hold onto before curling around your ass for a small squeeze.

He pulled away from the kiss, breaths mingling for a moment until Miguel rested his forehead on your shoulder. Your hands raked down his back and you dug your nails into his giant back, leaving streaks of red in their wake from scratching him. He moaned from it–the pain only adding to his pleasure-fueled mind. Miguel peppered kisses on your shoulder, making his way down to your chest.

“Miguel, I’m so close–so, so close…” You whimpered.

“I know, ángel, me… me too. Solo enfocate en mí, hm? Just let me have you.” He pleaded, his rough moans turning into whimpering as he neared his end. You responded with a weak ‘uh-huh’ then clinging onto Miguel for support.

He murmured in a jumble of Spanish and English, his breath hot on your neck while you screamed and pleaded for more, how good it felt, anything to get both of you going. Miguel lifted your lower half up, relentlessly pounding into you while he cursed lowly, burying his head in your shoulder again. You felt the bubble in your abdomen about to snap.

“Miguel, I–!” You tried warning him but instead the waves of your orgasm flooded your body, cumming on Miguel and making a mess between your legs. You twitched around him, milking his cock for all it’s worth. Your legs shook until you went limp, fucked out of your mind. Miguel whined, speeding up to catch his own release.

“Fuck–!” He moaned, feeling his cock pump out his creamy fat load inside you, painting your walls white. Miguel’s entire body tensed up, stilling up against you while he slowly came down from the high. His strokes gradually slowed down, pumping the final ropes of cum, while he softened inside you, huffing and puffing with you. He shakily but carefully pulled out of you after a few moments. You whimpered when he completely left you with a soft wet shlick.

Miguel fell beside you, exhausted and spent. Still, he reached for you, bringing your shivering body in his arms. You curled yourself in his chest weakly, feeling his hand play with your hair. He kissed your forehead, basking in each other's afterglow. He brought the covers up over you two for some extra warmth.

“I’ll…get us cleaned up in the morning…” He huffed with a tired smile. You grunted in response, too numb to speak but satisfied nonetheless.

can you tell this is my first smut? hahaaaa dontanswerthatillcry

[veillsar]

WAIT WAIT HANG ON-

Hang. the fuck. on.

Look at this.

Don't mind the poor quality, I literally took a photo of my laptop screen with my phone cuz I needed to post this right now.

This is our camp in Balder's Gate Lower city, do you see what I'm seeing?

They have drying laundry hanging above them.

On Gale's side, look up toward the right corner - we see colorful laundry hanging there to dry, probably some carpet or blankets, those are almost definitely Gale's judging from the aesthetic. Normal, fun detail.

On Astarion's side, there's also things hanging out to dry, except they are rags. Colorless, dirty, disgusting pieces of cloth that might as well have been sitting in a trashpile. They have holes in them, have been torn, damaged beyond a normal person's tolerance for fabric - but Astarion keeps them and washes them like normal laundry....because those rags were probably similar to what he had used for the last 200 years, so he doesn't know any better. What the fuck?

You can't....you can't just silently put details like this, waiting for someone like me to notice it and have my heart shattered all over the floor. I will cry.

FYI, I do know about the visual comparison between the outside of his tent and the inside, it just adds to the sadness I feel for this man even more. Again, Cazador, when I find you, you'll be a dead man walking I swear to the gods-

[elizais]

dazai who doesn't explicitly tell the agency about his lover

how dazai acts when he has a crush/partner outside of the agency reader doesn't work at the agency nor is given a part if that makes sense?? this is dazai not explicitly telling anyone about her but when the agency picks up on it fluff fluff fluff, dazai in love

dazai who walks into the agency day after day, sometimes much later than others but still there nonetheless. walking in and smiling to himself more, his silly little crush on his mind. his silly little crush who he would not let be a quick hookup. he genuinely couldn't shake her out of his mind.

dazai who leaves work giddy one day, excited to go on another date. after completing all his work on his own so he could talk about the case to you. he actually read all the paperwork so he could tell you everything in it! kunikida is a fool to think he actually just started being responsible.

dazai who is seen checking his phone whenever he gets a notification and smiling as he types out something. smiling to himself when he sees your simple or complex messages. despite knowing how much you value someone who cares about work, he is willing to message you all day instead.

dazai who doesn't tell the agency immediately because he doesn't want them to think you are just a fling. he definitely had a bad reputation but he was willing to change everything for you.

dazai who doesn't notice that ranpo notices all of his new mannerisms. fridays must be a date night as he chooses to dress a bit nicer, adjusts his bolo tie before leaving and doesn't just throw his coat around like he usually does. choosing that carefully hanging his coat up would be better to prevent wrinkles.

dazai who only starts telling everyone about his special lady when he is on his phone (messaging you) and is teased by ranpo across the room.

"sooo what is her name, dazai?" the master detective asked as he sat on his desk, kicking his feet. upon hearing his name, osamu was instantly snapped out of his trance. "have i not told any of you?" he smiled. the rest of the agency looked up from their work, confused.

"i thought you gave up on the waitress ages ago?" yosano asked. "i did, months ago!" dazai responded as he walked towards the coat rack that he hung his coat up on. pulling out his wallet, he took out the polaroid of the both of you.

"that's [name]!" he shown the room, kunikida didn't seem to believe him until he took the photo out of dazai's hands. "do you not believe me?" dazai asked, fake offense in his voice.

the rest of the agency began to gather around the photo, in awe of the adorable picture. they had to admit, the moment in time of the two of your heads squished together with grins plastered on both faces.

"my belladonna.." he whispered to himself. "now that i think of it, there have been less suicide attempts.." atsushi pondered. "why would i do such a thing when i have her? at first when she declined a double suicide i was disappointed as she is the most beautiful woman ever but her personality is even prettier.."

this whole new attitude was incredibly different from everything they knew about dazai but if anyone deserved happiness, he did. and if he talks about you like this, then they had to be happy for the both of you.

dazai who after that day, brings a framed photo of the both of you and places it next to his laptop. a messy collage of small photos smashed into a frame. another polaroid with you dressed up with him on halloween. (the statue of liberty and a tourist). another photo of you dressed up at a fancy restaurant. there is even one where you both have messy hair and you have pressed countless kisses to his face with red lipstick on.

dazai who will never let you be in harm's way. he made a promise to protect people and if he could let you meet the man who made him a better person, he would in a heartbeat.

dazai who goes to yosano when you get sick for advice because he will NOT take any risks even if it is just a cold.

dazai who does not wipe off lipstick stains before work, and takes pride in having faint marks on his face from you.

dazai who can't wait to let the people who take care of him meet you, the reason he carries on.

dazai who is so happy when you get along with the rest of the agency. although when you and the agency girls are hanging out he becomes the third wheel.

dazai who talks about you all the time to kunikida, claiming he was an "expert boyfriend" and is more than happy to give kunikida relationship advice.

a/n! so this won the poll!! as always, weekends are writing time for me so please excuse my lack of presence on here from time to time!