#and its all i can think about before i go to sleep

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty-eight —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 4.4k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex!!! SEX. enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

France feels just as haunted by ghosts, the kind that cling to silence.

The next morning, you follow the road south near the Belgium border under a punishing sun and suffocating humidity. Sweat pools under your clothes as you leave the coastline behind, passing overgrown rose bushes and grand estates crumbling to rotted beams. Without the raft or truck, supplies rest on everyone's backs, lighter now with all the food you’ve already gone through—a stark reminder that you’ll need more soon.

You were the last to wake, stirred from a deep sleep by the sounds of bags being packed. It shouldn’t be surprising—you’d slept well after two orgasms. It’s a miracle the night’s events didn’t spill into your dreams, but now, in the daylight, keeping them at bay is harder. Thankfully, Kyle and the two kids create a buffer as you all follow Price’s lead. Their presence helps keep your eyes from drifting to him. You force your gaze on the passing signs, making a mental game out of trying to pick up on some French. It's distracting enough. So far you've gathered that sortie means exit and allez means something like go. 

The first break comes when your shoulders burn from the weight of the backpack, the straps biting into your skin. You slip it off with a groan, sinking to the ground, and nurse the canteen of water. Just enough to wet your throat and keep the dizziness at bay—rationing is a habit.

Price's plan echoes in your head: Méteren by nightfall. That’s ten hours of walking, minimum. Your toes throb at the thought, each step promising fresh blisters, but you force yourself to focus. The faster you reach Switzerland, the safer you’ll all be. If the place they heard of is actually waiting there.

"Hey. Do you want this?"

Blue lowers beside you, offering a near-empty jar of peanut butter she was snacking on.

"Not much left but it's really good," she shrugs. 

"I'll finish it off, thanks."

The salty taste is not exactly refreshing, but you choke it down anyway, the boost of protein more of a necessity than a pleasure. Blue pulls at the grass beside you, her gaze drifting to Ari, who’s sharing food with Kyle. You try not to look, but your eyes flick to Ghost anyway.

The mask is still on, as always. Why is he obsessed with it, even after you just saw him naked? Despite its presence, you can still see the furrow between his brows as he pores over the map with Price. Sweat rings the collar of his black tee, and his biceps flex as he gestures down the road. You’re definitely checking him out when he catches your eye mid-conversation, adjusting his mask, and without missing a beat, you turn your attention back to Blue.

She is staring at you, her brow furrowed.

You instinctively touch your neck, your thoughts racing to the bruise hidden beneath your hair. 

“Do you think he likes him?” she asks abruptly.

You blink. “What?”

“Ghost,” she whispers, leaning closer. “Do you think he likes Ari?”

Relief floods you. “Oh. I mean, sure. He's a good kid.”

“He’s not a kid,” she corrects with a huff. “He’s thirteen.”

“That’s still a kid, Blue.”

She rolls her eyes but hesitates before adding quietly, “He kissed me.”

Your jaw nearly drops. “What?”

“Shh! Keep your voice down. And don’t tell Ghost.” She pinches your arm, her cheeks reddening.

“I won’t,” you assure her. “But… when? How?”

“The other night, when we kept watch. Just on my cheek, but still.” She pulls her knees to her chest. “He's cute. I think I like him, but… what if he doesn’t actually like me? What if he just sees me as a kid?”

Her uncertainty tugs at something deep in you. “Have you talked to him about it?”

She shakes her head, looking horrified. “No way. What if he doesn't feel the same? It could get weird.”

“Then kill him,” you deadpan. At her glare, your lips twitch. “Fine, I’ll kill him.”

She snorts despite herself. “Be serious.”

“Okay, how about this—just ask him, ‘Why did you kiss my cheek?’ Keep it simple.”

Blue considers this, her expression softening. “I could do that. But it has to be when Ghost isn’t around. Which is almost never.”

You're telling me. You pick at your nails, avoiding her trusting gaze as your chest tightens. 

The sound of Price's boots back on the gravel ends the break.

Even after the brief rest, your limbs drag with exhaustion for the next few hours, but the extra calories push you forward. You make it to Méteren before nightfall. As the guys pitch tents, you rip off your socks to survey the damage. Open blisters stare back at you. With only so much gauze in your kit, you've been hesitant, but you cut a conservative strand and wrap up your heels. 

Behind a bush, you change from your sweaty clothes and hope there is freshwater somewhere to wash them in the morning. You dab a rag with a bit of water from the canteen and scrub the biggest offenders; armpits, between your legs, the back of your neck. Changing into a clean shirt, the sound of them unpacking the sleeping bags beckons your heavy shoulders and sore legs. You head back to the tents, ready for sleep, when you overhear Ghost volunteer for first watch.

"Twix will help me."

You hope the surprise isn't visible on your face as you nearly drop your backpack, swinging your gaze at him.

"I will?"

"It's been a few days since you've taken watch."

Your lips roll together then flatten, shoving down the blush that crawls your neck at the thought of being alone with him. Kyle looks like he is ready to take your place, but you nod in resignation, clear your throat, and finish tugging on the zipper over your clothes. "Yeah, of course. I'll help."

The others disappear into the tents, and you turn to sit on a fallen log, bow in hand. But before you can settle, you feel his presence—a shift in the air just behind you, then the solid pressure of his hand curling around your forearm. Without a word, he guides you forward, pulling you with an ease that leaves no room for hesitation. Your body moves instinctively as he leads you out of earshot of the tents, behind an abandoned car. It is now you realize he's changed into a black hoodie and shedded the tactical vest. He leans his rifle against the side of the car and looks down at you, saying nothing for a few seconds.

"Did you take away my chance to sleep and pull me over here just to stare at me?" you whisper, arms crossing against the gentle breeze that has cooled with the fallen sun.

He exhales through his nose before responding. "About yesterday."

You blink at him, hoping you don't fail at hiding how even the mere mention sets your nerves alight. "What about it?"

The way his eyes move slowly over your face suggests he is searching for the words. Finally, he says flatly, "It was just fucking. A distraction."

"A distraction," you repeat slowly under your breath. The bluntness hits you harder than expected. You bite the corner of your cheek, a bit too hard, and you narrow your eyes. "You really think I don't already know that?"

His broad shoulders roll back in a shrug and his tone shifts far too casual for your liking. "I just didn't want you getting the wrong idea."

The wrong idea. You rip your gaze away, scraping your fingertips into your arm, before looking back at him with a forced shrug of your own. "I can handle fucking, Simon. Like I said, I'm a big girl."

There is an audible inhale, then a low chuckle rumbles in his throat as he leans in, his darkened eyes locking onto yours. He cages you in with his arms, the familiar heat radiating from his touch and already making your brain fuzzy. His hand slides to the back of your neck, guiding you onto your toes as he tears off the mask and lays it on the hood of the car. The glimpse of his strong jaw and the flick of his tongue wetting his lips sends a shiver through you despite the lingering irritation at his words. 

"Yes. You are," he murmurs, his voice rough and low, before capturing your mouth with his in a kiss that feels like the deep, soothing release of sinking into warm water after aching for relief.

You could kiss him for hours, you quickly realize, pleasantly fascinated by how hot and demanding his tongue feels against your mouth. He tastes like how he smells. Pine and salt. You submit to the pace of his lips, every graze of his teeth making your heart thicken. You move your hands through his hair, scratching his scalp, pulling him closer.

"There's something I need," he mumbles, voice etched with a tremble of impatience, and his fingers clench your shirt. With his other hand, he blindly reaches for the car door and forces the rusted thing open with a few tugs. 

"What do you need?" you breathe out, secretly thrilled that he wants you, again, even when it's been only twenty-four hours since he last had you. The mutual desire erodes the fatigue in your limbs and awakens your arousal. 

Without an answer, he spins your bodies, easing into the passenger seat, then pulls you in with him, closing the door with a soft click. The position is awkward at best—your head bumps into the roof, one knee wedged painfully into the center console from the lack of space. The car smells like stale leather and dust, but thankfully not like rot. It's far from enticing, but none of that matters when he forces the seat to recline, creating just enough room for you to lay on top of him.

You can feel him, hot and straining within his jeans, as you kiss him again and begin to move your hips instinctively. It is a thrilling notion, that you have made him hard so quickly, and you wonder if he ever touched himself like you did, stroking his cock with a callused hand that he imagined as you. The image of it, in combination with the friction on your pussy, has you greedily reaching to undo his belt buckle. 

He breaks from your lips with a grunt and grabs your wrist. "Not that."

Huh?

You don't have the chance to question him before the notch in his throat bobs, and he begins unzipping your jeans, instead. "My face. Sit on it." 

The blush on your cheeks is hidden in the car's small, dark space. His half-lidded gaze lifts to yours, and you nod absently before helping him push your pants and underwear to your ankles, shifting awkwardly to discard them to the floor. His hand immediately moves between your bodies, his fingers brushing against your wetness with a sharp inhale. It should make you embarrassed, but it doesn’t—not with the way he watches you, his other hand peeling off your shirt, the whites of his eyes flashing over your naked body with such unabashed hunger that you realize it must’ve been simmering in him for as long as it has in you.

Again, you're the only one undressed. His hands knead the plush of your ass, the massage to your sore glutes drawing a moan from you. He pushes you up his chest and you move your knees, until his face is level with your cunt, nose caressing your throbbing clit. You have to grip the headrest of the backseat to keep yourself steady, neck craned. His palms cup the backs of your thighs, keeping them apart. 

He's already put his mouth on you, but for some reason, this time feels more vulnerable. You become unconsciously alert of the fact you are not the girl you used to be, the one who shaved every inch of her body before going on a date, and scrubbed her skin with perfumed body wash. You have been sweating all day in the French humidity, and not a single part of you is hairless. When he attempts to pull you to his mouth, you resist with a wiggle of your hips.

"You don't—we don't have to do this, you know. I mean, I haven't shaved in years and—"

He bites your thigh. "Stop talking."

"Ghost, I'm disgusting."

His brows furrow, confused, before he exhales a soft laugh, breath fanning your cunt. "I don't care."

You writhe. "No, seriously—"

"I'm a big boy, Twix," he throws back you.

His tone is final, and with that, he ignores your protests and tightens his hands on you, pulling you to sit on his jaw. His tongue licks a bold stripe from hole to clit, then back down to your hole, where he swirls it a few times before pushing in. Your mouth hangs open in a silent surrender. It is you at his mercy now. His mouth feels even hotter on your cunt for some reason, causing your head to lull forward because of the ceiling, hair dangling. 

Your nails scrape into the leather. His tongue fucks you, nursing the sore flesh that his cock had stretched. He pushes you down with more force, and meets the juncture of your thighs with an arch of his neck, pressing his face deeper. There is a small worry that he might not be able to breathe, but it is erased when his tongue visits your clit with a heady groan, the vibrations of his vocal chords making your muscles flinch. He circles it with a light pressure. You reach down to grip his hair, silently demanding more. He listens, pressing his tongue harder.

"Fucking... yeah, like that."

One of his hands glides up your stomach and squeezes your breast. He keeps sucking, toiling with your puckered nipple at a similar pace. Despite the uncomfortable position, your hips buck and thrash. Your hand slaps against the window as he makes a sloppy mess out of you. The overgrown stubble on his jaw scrapes between your tightened thighs and the sting adds to the overwhelming sensations. You attempt to lift off, seeking a break, but he growls and strikes your ass, forcing you back down.

He licks at you expertly, as if having figured you out in just a few minutes. You screw your eyes shut, a small but swift orgasm rolling through you when you hear him slurp at your folds. He gathers it with a sweep of his tongue, humming. The aftermath leaves your trembling, breath jagged, as a larger one grows towards release.

"Been thinking about that all day," he whispers against you, continuing his ministrations. "Got another one for me?"

His tone feels mocking and desperate at once. Your nails press painfully into the condensation-painted glass. Your other hand fists back in his hair, curling and uncurling, but there is no point in trying to fight it, not when he parts your cunt with his fingers so he can lick more of it. You cum again, harder, almost convulsing as your head bangs upward. It feels never-ending, your moans uncontrollable. He laps you through it, even more relentless, drawing the pleasure for a near-minute, until your lungs can hardly function and you feel like you might collapse.

Your body is pliant and jelly-like when it finally fades. He takes hold of your waist to keep you upright, and pulls his mouth away with a dribble of leakage down his chin. Already, you know it will be impossible to forget that sight, his eyes dazed as if he is the one who just came twice. 

His touch turns somewhat tender when he helps you back down to his lap. He doesn't bother wiping the obscenity from his mouth when he kisses the corner of your lips, firmly, then helps you slip back into your clothes since your brain doesn't seem to have full control over your limbs yet. It's when you place a hand on his thigh to shimmy on your jeans that you feel a distinguishable wet spot.

He finished, too.

The discovery makes your chest swell, and you nibble at your lip as you finish changing. 

"Thanks," you whisper to him. 

He doesn't say anything. He keeps the seat reclined and allows you to lay limp against him, feeling the uneven pace of his heart that matches your own. Clearly, he is a man of his word. This will not be a one time thing, even if it is just fucking. You sigh in sheer exhaustion from the day's activities, unable to ignore the weight in your eyelids as you inhale the residual musk in the air between your bodies. His chest feels firm and warm, a decent place to rest your head, and you think you feel a touch caress your hair. 

You are supposed to be staying up to keep watch, but he doesn't seem ready to move you. Somewhere between wondering how long you can keep this hidden from Blue, and dreading how far you will have to walk again tomorrow, you drift to sleep.

When morning arrives, you are not curled up in a car, but tucked in a sleeping bag. 

Ghost must've put you here, but you have no recollection of it, squinting your eyes against the harsh incoming of sunlight through the nylon walls. Nereida is in the bag beside you, not Blue, which offers a thread of relief. You carefully extricate yourself without waking her and join an awakened Price and Kyle for breakfast.

This morning feels slower than the last. Satisfied with the distance covered yesterday, Price is content with just making it to a town called Englos today. Then, you can focus on finding food and water during the evening. 

Your energy is replenished with tomato soup and stale crackers. Blue sits with Ari to eat, and you casually glance at her, but she gives you a subtle shake of her head. No, she hasn't talked to him yet. You offer a small, forced smile and look away.

The day's journey begins after what you would guess is around 8 am. As you walk, you redo your braids, tucking the strands into place so they don't stick to your forehead. Kyle falls in step beside you in comfortable silence, while Ghost moves to the front of the group. He treats you exactly as before—offering only the rare glance of acknowledgment. As if you hadn't just sat on his face last night. As if he hadn't ate you out like you were a source of sustenance.

Though, you’re grateful for his distance. It makes it easier to stay discreet. If he were to look at you too long, you might give yourself away.

It's just fucking.

Nothing but small towns and sprawling fields surrounds you. You pick up a few more words of French and think back to how your parents took you here, but never to the countryside. It's beautiful. Picturesque, even, except for the occasional skeleton tucked between ambery stalks of wheat. You pass through a place called Bailleul, where the remaining buildings remind you of England, when you spot black graffiti inked on a small clock tower.

N'allez pas à Fleurbaix.

"Allez means go," you murmur, stepping over some broken glass. "So what does n'allez pas mean..."

"Picking up a new language?"

You swing your head at Kyle, blinking, and he chuckles lightly at your reaction. 

"Yeah. I thought it might come in handy when chatting with the thriving local population."

He shakes his head in amusement. "Have you been here before?"

"When I was a kid. Once to Paris, and once to a ski resort."

"Ah. So you were one of those kids."

You frown. "What kids?"

"The kids who had money to go skiing."

You shrug, thinking back. "I mean, we weren't rich by any means. Just comfortable."

He nods, the companionable silence resuming as you replay the graffitied words in your head. N'allez pas must mean do not go. Do not go to Fleurbaix. You are about to ask Kyle if that is where you are headed when he speaks first.

"Are we good, Twix?"

His question throws you off guard. You make eye contact and he raises an expectant brow as if he is referring to something...

Right. He kissed you. It feels like forever ago since it happened, but it was only a week maybe. The memory almost makes you cringe, especially in comparison to what you've done with Ghost the past two days.

"Yeah," you dismiss breathily. "Yeah, of course. We're good."

He seems genuinely relieved by your answer, smiling with a sliver of teeth. "Good. I'm glad. I was an idiot and not in the right headspace. But still, I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable. I've been trying to give you space."

"It's fine, honestly," you tell him. "We are all under a lot of stress."

He releases a breath, then brushes a shoulder against yours. "So we're friends, you and I? Or something like that."

You nod with a little laugh, shifting the backpack. "Something like that. By the way, do you know if we are going by a place called—"

"Gaz. Come here for a moment," Ghost calls.

His tone is abrupt, causing everyone to halt. Without question, Kyle jogs over, his boots scraping against the gravel as he moves toward Ghost, who is crouched on one knee, fingers brushing over the matted grass at the side of the road. You squint, trying to figure out what’s caught their attention, and step closer to get a better look.

"A lot of them," Kyle says quietly, his palm pressing gently into the flattened vegetation. Now, you can see it—clear signs of something recently passing through. The ground is torn up, the plants bent and trampled. "It can't have been long ago," he adds, frowning as he observes the damage.

Ghost doesn't look up as he responds. "A horde went through here. Maybe in the last day." He inhales the humid breeze, and shifts his gaze toward Price. "I can smell them from the east."

"We could run right into them if we keep following the D231," Price mutters, drumming his fingers on the rear of his gun. He glances at the nearest road signs, then unfolds the map. "We could shift west for a few kilometers, through Fleurbaix, then cut back toward Englos."

"I just saw something that warned against going to Fleurbaix," you speak up.

Ghost's brow rises. You ignore the nerves that prickle your cheeks beneath his stare. 

"I mean, there are signs saying keep out of everywhere by now," Kyle reasons. "That's probably from the start of the infection."

"It's either Fleurbaix, or risk a run in with the horde," Ghost says.

You nod, more so to yourself, and murmur under your breath. "Fleurbaix it is, then."

Bailleul fades at your backs as you keep moving.

The scent of Greys lingers in the shifting air, but it is difficult to detect amid the strong aroma of flowers that pop up in every shade, replacing the fields of wheat. Roses, violets, and some yellow one you don't recognize ornate the rolling hills for as far as you can see. The buildings turn more upright, strong stone that has yet to falter from neglect. You keep reading the signs, even though you don't have the map to refer to, and your spine tightens when you read Fleurbaix: 1 km. 

You unsling your bow without thinking, tapping your nails against the wood.

The road becomes a bit windier as it cuts through some small farms. You even spot a few cows roaming the overgrown pastures which Blue seems curious by. You notice more painted words on the sides of the homes: Nous devons expier nos péchés. It repeats a few times, but you fail to translate it. The only part that clicks is nous, which you think means we.

We something... something...

After crossing a small bridge over a dried creek bed, you excuse yourself to relieve your bladder.

"Keep going, I'll catch up."

You step over what looks like a metal dog chain left on the road and situate yourself between a tree and old BMW. Squatting burns your thighs, and reminds you of your dried cum on them that you've tried, yet failed, to completely wipe off. You clench your teeth as you pee, when there is a sudden sound behind you that makes you flinch, and you quickly zip back up before whirling around. A rat—your shoulders sink. It sits up on its hind legs and stares at you with beady eyes.

"I guess I'm just jumpy sometimes, little guy," you whisper, leaning in. "You would be, too, if you've had to deal with what I have." The rat doesn’t blink. "Right. Well, I’m sure Ghost would think this is incredibly sexy—me having a talk with a rodent."

You sigh, watching him scurry away, but then another rat darts over your boot. You jerk back, gaze following its direction to an old building—a schoolhouse or chapel, judging by the circular stained-glass window below the roof. Beautiful shrubs lines the sides, seemingly well-kept. The door hangs ajar, with more vermin pouring out in an endless line.

"Jesus. Quite a lot of friends you have, huh?"

You glance down the road. The others are still close but walking ahead. You should catch up. It's not safe alone. But against your better judgment, you step toward the door, pushing it open. Rats scatter underfoot as a thick, rancid smell hits you. Death—fresh and cloying, even more so than the flowers.

Blood streaks the stone floor inside, pooling where vermin feast. Splintered pews lead to an altar. You freeze. Lying there ceremoniously is what's left of a body, hardly recognizable—ribs torn through flesh, a dangling optic nerve, a mangled groin. A plethora of bite marks cleave through the remains. Bile rises in your throat as the sound of gnawing echoes through against the sun-lit walls.

But what truly grips you is the writing, in blood, draped over a small cross.

Nous devons expier nos péchés.

You whip around and run, the door closing heavily behind you.

"Simon!" His name claws up your throat.

[starboye]

starring: jordan powell x male reader x vinnie hacker

request: can i get a jordan powell x male reader x vinnie hacker smut fic i CRAVE more vinnie hacker smut

warnings: smut, cursing, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation, handjod, making out

when you went out to have some fun at a bar you didnt expect to end up back at a hotel room getting fucked by two guys you barely met but i mean are we really against that (i know you aren't) but you really couldn't complain with such good dick fucking you right now.

i think the guys kissing you was named jordan and the other one fucking you was vinnie, and god was he fucking you good while you were slumped in the arms of jordan who was making out with you, his tongue invading your mouth and his teeth casually nipping at your bottom lip every now and then.

"good boy" jordan whispered in your ear as your head drooped onto his shoulder, vinnies hands snaking up to lift your face off jordans shoulder "mm mm we wanna hear those pretty moans some more baby" he drawls deepening his thrusts into your making you whimper while your hands tighten around jordan arms.

looking up at him with watery eyes from the hours of fucking, feeling so tired but wanting more and more just for him to smile back at you "y'know you look so good all desperate for some cock" he mutters before going back to making out with you, they both enjoyed the sight, vinnie loved seeing you lazily making out with jordan and jordan loved seeing you take vinnies cock.

"yeah just a little more" vinnie said from behind you as he fucked you a little harder, his grip tightening before he came in you, creaming your hole for like the 3rd time tonight, pulling out of you and switching with jordan who slipped into your loose hole easily "did you miss this face" vinnie asked taking jordan place in front of you.

as much as you wanted to make a snarky remark you did in fact like looking at his pretty face but it looked better when he was destroying you hole and before you could answer he was quick to kiss you down your neck, sliding his hand down your back to arch it more, giving him the perfect view of your ass getting fucked.

"keep it just like that mhm" he lowly ordered nipping at your neck making you mewl a little, jordan ran his hands down the insides of your thighs, inching closer and closer to your sensitive cock after hours of cumming "ngh please no" you whine making both of them chuckle before jordan leans over your shoulder "what can't cum anymore" he teases and you shyly nod your head.

"well i think you got one more in you dont you think so vin" he asks "id say he has about three more in him" vinnie answers slipping his hands down to fondle your balls a little snickering at how you moan into the crook of his neck more and more as jordan slowly strokes your aching cock.

vin leans back up to kiss you, quickly making you go quiet as all the pleasure worked your body more and more, hips bucking your ass back onto jordans hips a little more "so slutty huh" jordan says slapping your ass causing you to moan into vins mouth making his cock jump a little.

"c'mon just one more and were done okay" jordan coos next to your ear as his fist tightens around your length and your hole tightens around his cock "yeah just one more for us okay baby boy" vinnie adds holding your face to look at him before your cumming onto the soaked sheets, jordans load spurting into your ass not to soon after.

"good boy" vinnie whispers kissing you while jordan comes down from his high and you collapse onto the bed and soon fall asleep "i like this one" jordan says admiring your sleeping figure "y'think he'd come live with us" vinnie asks.

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @znerac

[themultifanshipper]

Sometimes, there's nothing like some heavy drinking and extreme cold to make sure best friends don't stay best friends.

You and Franco found this out the hard way.

Warnings: don't fuck on the beach guys it's really not a good idea, smut, belly bulge, squirting, alcohol, so many petnames I lost count, no good judgement to be found anywhere

I'll set the scene.

Winter break, at a beach house on the Argentinian coast, at night.

Everyone is sleeping, the only sound that can be heard is the waves crashing on the sand.

You and Franco were indeed best friends. And deeply, deeply in denial about your feelings for each other.

You followed him everywhere, fucking up your education to go to all his races, ever since you were 14.

And he never had a girlfriend because... well, how could he even look at other girls when you were around?

Now you were 23, and he'd fucked around a bit, and so had you. But it was never anything serious, drunken one night stands mostly.

But there you were, on the beach at 2 in the morning, playing a game of drunk hetero-chicken.

Like gay chicken, but longer and more painful to watch.

It involved throwing back shots, and running into the ocean.

The twist was that the ocean was fucking cold when there was no sun to warm you up, and there was only so much the cheap tequila could do, so once you were in the water you had to huddle up to share body heat.

It was only a matter of time before the huddling turned to groping.

You can't even remember who initiated the first kiss, but neither of you wanted to stay in the water for long after that.

Franco carried you out, your thighs firmly wrapped around his waist and his hands digging into your ass.

He set you down in the sand and climbed over you, shoving his way in between your legs.

You both knew what was about to happen, but were too fucking in love to care.

You whined at the stretch when the first of his thick fingers made its way into your quickly dampening cunt.

“It's okay, querida. Let me take care of you”

He bit your bottom lip at the same time as the second finger slipped in, both actions making you groan into his greedy mouth.

Mouth that decided to start traveling south and sucked a couple of bruises into your skin before going even further.

The hand that wasn't pumping in and out of you came up to pull at the string of your bikini, exposing your tits to him as he gulped and looked deep into your eyes.

“You are perfect, mi vida”

He leaned down and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, making you arch into the sensation and he took the opportunity to slip a third finger in.

He hooked them upwards and you groaned your approval of his ministrations.

“Franco, fuck me- please”

“In a minute, baby, let me just-”

You looked down at this hand, and the sight of him slipping a fourth finger in was enough to make you clench around them, and he groaned, the squelch almost audible over the crashing waves.

“Fuck Franco, that's- I think that's enough, no?”

He chuckled. “I need to prepare you, the last thing I want is to hurt you. I am... uhh, big” he muttered, almost shyly, and if it hadn't been night-time you would have seen the blush creeping along his cheeks.

And if the bulge in his shorts was anything to go by, he wasn't lying.

You slipped a hand in the waistband, pulling them down slowly, and marveled at the thickness that met your touch.

Your fingers were barely long enough to wrap around him, and he grunted as you started pumping him slowly.

“Come on Franco, I won't break. I need you inside me, please”

And who was he to deny such a request.

Despite his inebriated state, he went slow, and was incredibly careful as he inched inside you with measured thrusts.

When his hips were finally flush with yours, you let out a wanton moan.

“Fuck, I'm so full”

“I know querida, just breathe”

He let you adjust at your own pace, kissing your neck in an effort to distract you from the intense stretch.

“Okay” you gasped out “You can move baby”

The first gentle thrust was eath-shattering and you couldn't help but let out a shrill cry, which spurred Franco on.

He lifted you with an arm around your waist, sitting back on his haunches and holding you up so that he could thust into you while you clung onto him, overwhelmed by the pleasure.

You came once like that, panting and moaning into his mouth, before he lay you back down and put your legs over his shoulders.

He pounded into you hard and fast while you squirmed and whined at the overstimulation.

“Franco, oh my god” you gasped, feeling the beginnings of another orgasm approaching and he chuckled when he felt your cunt squeezing him tighter.

“You can do another one for me, baby, can't you?”

He looked down at you with a sick smirk and you nodded.

He glanced further down and his jaw tightened at what he saw.

“Look baby, look how good I’m filling you”

You followed his gaze and landed on the slight bulge that appeared when he was fully inside you.

You moaned and he laughed, his hips speeding up.

“You like that, huh? Go on and rub yourself for me while I make you feel good”

You complied immediately, fingers going down to rub fast circles on your clit, and at the same time Franco put a hand over the bulge and pressed down.

You saw stars, literally and metaphorically as you spasmed around him, juices coating his hips and thighs, and seeping into the wet sand.

Your head was thrown back while you cried out his name into the night, and once you were sated he quickly pulled out and fisted his cock until the thick ropes of his cum landed on your thighs and soaked folds, mixing with your own release.

He leaned down to kiss you, not caring about lying in his own spend because, after all you just needed to have a dip in the water to clean off.

You lay like that for a bit, just kissing in the moonlight while the sound of the waves faded into the background.

After a while you separated and he chuckled.

“Thank god we are outside. I don't think I've ever made anyone squirt that much before.”

You slapped his chest lightly and giggled. “Franco!”

He smiled and leaned down to capture your lips once more.

“Come, lets go inside before we catch un resfriado”

You didn't know what that was, but you followed him anyway.

You took a long hot shower, and curled up together in bed, like you always did.

The next day you learned what a ‘resfriado’ is (it’s a fucking nasty bitch of a cold), and you also learned that Franco's poor mother had gotten up in the night to get a glass of water, and had the misfortune of looking out of the window.

She apparently got quite an eyeful of the filth that you two were getting up to.

[blushweddinggowns]

Eddie was wide awake for the fourth night in a row while Steve’s voice streamed through the walls. Every passing second had his pathetic crush on the man dissolving more and more. The last bastion between Steve and Eddie telling him to fuck off. 

It took one last laugh for him to finally snap. He couldn’t take it for another second. He threw the covers back, marching out of his room to start pounding at Steve’s door.

He didn’t have to wait long. He could hear Steve scramble to open the door, tripping over himself before finally getting it open.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked immediately, clearly concerned, “Are you okay?”

The reaction took Eddie aback. He didn’t- how did he not know what he was here for? 

Eddie barrelled right past it, his anger winning over his confusion, “Dude, you gotta shut the fuck up at night.”

Steve frowned at him, “What?”

“You gotta shut the fuck up at night,” Eddie repeated, crossing his arms over his chest. If he wanted to fight with him on this, Eddie was more than ready to play ball, “I can hear every goddamn word and I’m sick of it.”

Steve’s eyes widened, a blush crawling up his neck as he tried to stutter, “I-I-I didn’t-”

Whatever reaction Eddie had been expecting, it wasn’t this. But now that he started, he couldn’t stop. His brain refusing to catch up with the expression on Steve’s face, “And the showers at thee something? That’s gotta stop too. Can you not hear yourself? What’s your problem?”

“I-I didn’t think you could hear me!” Steve stuttered out, “I didn’t- oh god, you could hear everything?”

“Everything,” Eddie confirmed, his anger slowing down at Steve’s panic, “It’s not like I can recite your conversations but it’s enough to make sure I can’t fucking sleep.”

He could see Steve visibly relax at his words. Which was… suspicious. Maybe he should have been listening in at night instead of seething from exhaustion. 

Steve ran a hand through his hair, “I didn’t- I could never hear you! So I thought that you wouldn’t be able to hear me. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, so am I,” Eddie sighed, “What? You’ve never had shitty walls before?”

“Not for this price,” Steve shrugged, cringing at the look Eddie gave him, “Not that I’m complaining! You didn’t design the building.”

He looked sincere but Eddie’s lack of sleep had his filter evaporating. He pinched the bridge of his nose, hating that he was about to go full RA. But this wasn’t going to happen for another night, “So who keeps you up all night anyway?”

“It’s my job!” Steve rushed out to say, “And my best friend. She’s studying in France and we’re obsessed with each other. It’s the only time our schedules line up to talk. I didn’t even realize how loud I was being.” 

Great. Now Eddie was starting to feel bad. But he wasn’t ready to admit it yet, “You really didn’t know how loud the shower is? Don’t you hear that shit in the morning?”

Steve shrugged, “I’m a heavy sleeper.”

“Is your job like, sweat-inducing?” Eddie tried, “Or can a shower wait until before work?”

“The former,” Steve said quietly, shifting foot to foot, “It’s… a lot of movement.”

Eddie squinted at him, confused at what that could mean. Until it hit him. The cash, the late hours, his stupidly pretty face. The question spilled out of Eddie’s mouth before he could stop it, “You’re a stripper?”

Steve cringed at the wording, crossing his arms over his chest, “I’m a dancer.”

“At a strip club?”

“At a gay club,” Steve mumbled, clearly getting more uncomfortable by the second. 

Eddie didn’t notice. Too shocked at what he’d heard. He felt like his world had just been flipped on its head. Steve wasn’t supposed to- he wasn’t an option. Right?

“I didn’t think you were the gay for pay type,” Eddie said dumbly, cringing at the glare that earned him. Holy fuck he needed some sleep. Or a muzzle.

Steve stood a little straighter, his embarrassment replaced with an anger Eddie wasn’t prepared for, “First of all, I don’t fuck for money. Secondly, I’m not straight. I didn’t think that was something you’d have a problem with.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Eddie was fucking this up something fierce, gaping at Steve like a fish. He hadn’t been ready for him to turn the tables like this. He was supposed to be the dick here, not the other way around. 

Steve stared at him, clearly unimpressed with his lack of response, “Is that it? Because I’d like this conversation to be over now. Good night.”

from the first chapter of this fic (my holiday exchange fic! To be completed by the 14th deadline but I wanted to start posting whilst in the editing phase!)

also tag list for the official fic link! @faery-god @the-fatal-lozenge @nyeddleblog @my-love-of-books

(btw I only tagged who specifically asked for it because I don't wanna be annoying. But if you implied it and I missed you my bad! I'm just paranoid! Thank you everyone who has had an interest <3)

[saymio]

Who's most likely to force reader to sleep with someone for money. Basically forcing her into prostitution.

Hwang inho

Thanos

Nam gyu

Myung gyi

Player 388

Player 246

_🎀

A/N: omg??I LOVE REQUESTS LIKE THIS I make them quickly n I have fun nyehehhehe.

contains: thanos, namgyu, inho, gyeongseok, daeho

Thanos

I see him doing this the most, does not gaf about what happens to you, doesn't even try guilt tripping you into saying yes he just tells you the two of you need more money and that you're going to sleep with guys for it one random night. you cry and plead for him to not do it for actual hours but he ignores you and basically turns into your pimp and keeps all the money you make from then on. "its for us baaabee" is all he tells you when you express concerns about what he's spending all the money on...and of course you believe your sweet boyfriend.. when your landlord personally came to your apartment door and told the two of you that you were late 4 months of rent you exploded. this was the first time you stood up for yourself, yelling at Thanos and asking why he even needed the money if it wasn't for 'us'. Thanos just found this amusing and funny. he paid the late rent and forced you to keep selling yourself off. more than before. now you're just stuck in this loop of sex work with no way out..you knew Thanos would kill you if you left..

2. Namgyu

he's similar to Thanos, but less aggressive about it and manipulates you more into it. uses your financial position as a reason to start doing it. (that he's the reason you're in) will try to sway you into it as well, "just for a weeekk you're debt will be covered and you could live the normal live you've always wanted babbyy." he'll say all this while he's hugging your back and whispering it into your ear. if that doesn't work he'll start using his position to convince you. "we need the money babe!! I'm broke, I can barely afford food. if you start doing this we'll have enough for my debts and food...don't you want me to be happy?" he'll beg and beg for weeks until you finally give in. once you do he basically does what Thanos does but only give you a small portion of the money telling you "its all we made" when it clearly wasn't.. but you believed him, your boyfriend wouldn't force you into this just so he could take the money for himself!! doesn't even use if for his debt or said food he was so lacking of. he just buys drugs and nice things, ingoring the fact he has a group of men going for his neck.. he doesn't let you stop once you say your week is over, he forced you to keep going and if you quit he'll leak all the videos he took to everyone you knew.... so you really had no choice but to keep doing this until he thinks he's had enough money.

3. Inho

i don't see him forcing you into sex work in person, but I see him forcing you to sell your nudes and sex clips online just for the fun of it. he obviously doesn't need the money to take care of you or himself he just finds it amusing how uncomfortable and upset you get from it. will take tons of photos and videos of you on his cock while you beg him to stop and that it makes you uncomfortable. he loves seeing you in pain, it turns him on like crazy. will force you to read all the comments and messages you get from your little twitter account, he doesn't understand why you're so upset!! random guys on the internet think you're hot and would fuck you any day of the week just like him. what's the problem with that? will buy you a ton of tiny lingerie and toys and lock you into a room for hours until you make a certain amount of content for your 'fans'. doesn't like to admit it but he jerks off to your photos almost every night

4. Gyeong seok

he wouldn't do it unless he REALLY needs it..like now. he wouldn't be like namgyu or thanos that takes all the money just for nice things but uses it so he can put food on the table and pay his daughters medical bills. will 100% manipulate you into it, but it'd be really subtle. "you know how nayeon is really sick right...she really needs the money.. i- im sorry for asking but would you ever like..sleep with a man for money.." acts like he'd accept no as an answer but really wouldn't, he knows this money is valuable and will do anything to have you say yes. "nayeon would be really happy if she could finally treat her cancer" "nayeon's been really hungry these days" uses his daughter as more reason why you should say yes. you're his girlfriend and you love nayeon, right? you should do this small favor for her... you end up saying yes only after a few weeks and gyeong seok doesn't make it a secret that he wants to take all the money so he can put food on the table and pay the important stuff for his and his daughters needs. he thought you'd fight back but you just accepted it, you wanted to help your boyfriend and maybe by doing this he'd finally marry you once he gets back on his feet like he tells you.. he doesn't really know how to feel about you sleeping with other men but he knows he's the reason for it so he cant complain.. 100% fucks you again when you get home so you remember who you actually belong to. it makes you feel better about everything that's happening.. wont force you to keep selling yourself off once he pays off everything he needs, will just try his best to provide for both and nayeon like he should be doing.

5. daeho

he doesnt, I KNOW! IM SORRY! I KNOW BORING, THROW TOMATOES ALL U WANT!! I just don't see him doing this like AT ALL. would rather work 6 jobs at the same time than ever force you into something like this.

A/N: I feel like this highkey sucks but oh well. noeul fic is prolly dropping today or tmr doe YAY #writersblock

TAGLIST: @pollys-doublelife @gongyoosgf

[nxtt2-u]

kink headcanons ft. OT8 SKZ !

content info — ot8 (individual) x afab!reader, 3.6k words, smut, established relationship in all scenarios

content warnings — nsfw, a shit ton of kinks and scenarios about them, kinks will not be specified to prevent spoiling, swearing, intentional lowercase

notes — this was actually meant for kinktober ‘24, but i clearly never got around to finishing it… whoops. here we are a whopping four months later; enjoy! not proofread. 18+ only, mdni.

★ ──── BANGCHAN

a switch, but leans heavily on the dominant side. usually a service dom, but can get a little mean sometimes.

⤷ BREEDING.

chan gets off so badly to the fantasy of fucking his babies into you. one night when he’s pounding into you with a condom on, he begins to babble when his orgasm draws near — “you’d look so fucking gorgeous all round with my children, baby, fuck!” and you clamp down on him so hard he has half the mind to think his cock might snap in half as he experiences the strongest orgasm of his life. so yeah, it’s safe to say you got on birth control right away & threw away all condoms after that.

⤷ PRAISE.

he loves to whisper sweet things into your ear as he gently pushes into your cunt from behind after a busy schedule. chan loves how you gush around him when his murmured words, coated in sickeningly sweet honey, flow into your ears as he wholly takes you apart with his hands and cock. he loves it even more when you praise him as well! it has a special effect on him when you’re riding him especially — the praise sends his dick jerking within your tight heat as his knees wobble and he keens into where his face is mushed between your tits.

⤷ FACE FUCKING.

this man loathes to hurt you, but when you give him head one time and he accidentally thrusts too deep into your mouth, he can’t help the way he positively throbs at the wet click your throat gives when it constricts around his tip. when you feel the twitch, you moan & quickly pull off just to give him permission to fuck your throat before taking his cock back into your mouth and waiting patiently. the sight and sound of you deepthroating him is so erotic that when he comes, he genuinely gets lightheaded and has to sit down afterward before he collapses from the intensity of his orgasm.

⤷ BONUS!

his fav position is definitely riding. quick, act surprised! he loves to see you work up a sweat in his lap while you struggle to take his cock to the hilt. its so endearingly hot, the way you plea and whine for him to help you work his dick inside, but he just chuckles n pats your ass as a signal to keep going. maybe, if he feels merciful enough, he’ll flip you over when your legs really do give out and pound you til you’re full of his cum.

★ ──── MINHO

dom & brat tamer. has subbed only once with you and liked it so much he got too scared to try it again.

⤷ BONDAGE.

minho often restrains your wrists with his belt or a silk tie he owns when you get particularly bratty with him. he holds them behind your back as he slams into you from behind, and the sight of you restrained just for him, creaming all over his cock despite the rough treatment he loves to dish out, has him seeing stars when he pulls out to come on your back.

⤷ IMPACT PLAY.

it’s no secret minho loves ass: slapping ass, grabbing ass, pretty much anything to do with ass. so it’s no surprise when his palm harshly crashes down on the supple curve of your cheeks when he gives you backshots for the first time. you jolt at the sudden sting, though it burns wonderfully when he does it again. and again. and again, until your skin is red and thoroughly raw once he’s done with you. as your relationship goes on, he eventually begins to slap your pretty face as well, though he’s much more gentle about that. on your rear, however? no mercy.

⤷ SOMNOPHILIA.

min loves nothing more than coming home to you dozing peacefully in those specific sleep shorts, a sign you’re his for the night. even if he’s horribly exhausted from a long day, the sight of you deep asleep and utterly pliant for him has the cogs in his mind gearing into something primal with how much arousal shoots to his cock. he wastes no time in prowling across the room to harshly push the gusset of the fabric aside and immediately slide himself home when he discovers you’re commando and already soaking wet. there’s no way you stay asleep at such rough handling, of course, but that won’t make him stop anytime soon!

⤷ BONUS!

he enjoys anal. when you were out the house, he took one of your dildos in secret and experimented with it on his own, and came out pleasantly surprised. not only does he enjoy it with himself, he also loves anal with you — especially when he gets home after a long day of work to find you all dolled up for him. his cock jerks in his pants when he reaches down to grope your ass in appreciation, only to discover a plug snug between your cheeks. he’d never admit it out loud, but it gets him super riled up to see the way your hole gapes and sputters when he’s done with you.

★ ──── CHANGBIN

a switch, but leans slightly onto the subby side.

⤷ FREE USE.

bin loves to see when you come home from a long, frustrating day at work. he loves to see your eyes darken when you notice the special bracelet on his wrist that shares an unmistakable sign between the two of you, and he loves it even more when you storm across the living room to shove him back onto the couch and pop open the button of his jeans without a word to sink down on his cock like you own it, own him. nothing else gets him harder than when you simply take and use him like your own personal toy!

⤷ PEGGING.

although he does enjoy pegging, the two of you don’t dabble in this often — simply because you much prefer his cock down your throat or in your pussy, milking him dry. but when he does feel subby enough to offer his ass up, it usually leads to very tender lovemaking rather than hard, rough sex. he just gets so soft and needy in this headspace when you peg him, so eager to feel good! in missionary, he often pops a tit into his mouth to softly suckle at as you thrust into him leisurely from above. but it’s never long before he starts babbling and begging you for more!

⤷ ROLEPLAY.

something about taboo roleplays get binnie going like no other: age gaps, power imbalances, and even cheating get his cock rock hard in seconds when the two of you play in the bedroom. recently, the two of you had roleplayed as professor and student. “ah, professor, are you sure this is the best way to get extra credit..?” you’d peered down at him as he eased your short skirt and panties down your legs, chuckling at your bashful behavior. “of course, bun,” he’d sighed, leaning in to press a kiss to your sopping core before meeting your eyes again with a smirk. “your grades will be up in no time if you just spread those pretty legs for your professor, hm? now go on, i’m waiting.”

⤷ BONUS!

loves double penetration, both on him and you. it drives him crazy to see you struggle to take both his coke can of a cock in your cunt and a silicone replica of it down your throat at the same time. watching your cheeks hollow obscenely around the replica has his cock kicking within your walls as you moan around it, and it quickly has him bending your legs to your chest to pound you properly. on the flip side of the coin, he loves how full he feels when you plug his ass and fuck his throat with your strap; it gets his head all floaty n pliant for you in a heartbeat!

★ ──── HYUNJIN

walking definition of a switch. sadist & masochist. can get pretty bratty when he subs.

⤷ BREATH PLAY.

hyunjin loves the tantalizing pressure of your palm against his neck, especially when you ride him so hard he’s practically seeing stars. whether that’s from how hard your ass is slamming down onto his muscled thighs or from the growing asphyxiation, he’s too deliciously lightheaded to even think about it when the two of you go hard like this in bed. when you give his neck one generous squeeze, it has his whole body locking up and him coming instantly with no warning other than a broken, guttural cry. on the other hand, he gets an intense power trip when he chokes you — the way your jaw drops as you gasp for breath when his grip tightens and your pretty eyes roll back to show the whites is so intoxicating to him! he’ll never be able to get enough of the sight.

⤷ TEMPERATURE PLAY.

the way you squirm beneath him is just so cute when hyune rubs ice across your perky nipples while his hot, hard cock spears you open at the same time! when the cubes slip off your breasts onto the sheets beside you, the warmth of his breath fanning over the cold area when he leans down has you squealing and kicking your legs out in protest — but he catches those easily and wraps them around his slender waist to laugh down at how sensitive and responsive you are for him.

⤷ COCK & BALL TORTURE.

the delicious sting hyunjin feels when you slap his cock sends his body shuddering and eyes rolling. his toes curl when you tug harshly on his sensitive balls before rearing your hand back to smack the head of his weeping cock, forcing his hips to kick off the bed with the searing pleasure-pain that has his brain reeling and nervous system going haywire. especially loves when you bust out some cock rings — it’s a perfect night for him when you ride his cock raw, denying him of his orgasm while you have your fun, until he can finally cum inside after hours of his balls being squeezed tight to stave off his orgasm.

BONUS!

big big big fan of markings, both on himself and you! he’s constantly biting marks into the tender skin just below your boobs and the soft inner areas of your thighs when he goes down on you. he really loves it when he gets time off so you can mark him up properly on his neck, particularly below his jaw, so he can go a few days without having to conceal it with makeup and wear and flaunt them properly. his favorite place to mark you, though, is your hips and chest. gets a huge ego boost when he sees them peeking out of your shirt when you wear a low-cut top, and he’s extra smug when you get home later that day to refresh them.

★ ──── JISUNG

sub, sub, sub! rarely doms, and even when he does “dom” it’s more or less him acting the same as usual — like a princess — with the only difference being him doing all the work for once. big masochist.

⤷ MOMMY KINK.

there’s rarely a moment in bed where jisung doesn’t call you mommy. like the sweet boy he is, he always asks you for permission before he does anything. “mommy, please let me suck your tits? i promise i won’t touch myself without your permission, pleaseee?” and with those sweet doe eyes of his, how could you say no? he gets pretty babbly when he’s balls deep in your pussy and his head is mushed between your tits as he whines and cries out his thanks, how good he feels ��� he’s simply too obsessed with you!

⤷ DEGRADATION.

jisung nearly cums in his pants when you talk down to him like he’s worth nothing to you, like he’s the dirt on the bottom of your shoes. he can’t stop the breathy moans slipping from his dropped jaw when you jerk his slick cock, whispering words in his ears that should humiliate him, but only results in more burning hot arousal pooling deep in his stomach and his balls tightening, eager to spill all over the tight grip of your hand. all his efforts to hold off his orgasm go to waste, though, when you call him a “worthless, good for nothing slut” that has his body abruptly convulsing and cries tumbling from his lips as he cums all the way up to his heaving chest.

⤷ PAIN KINK.

he gets delirious with pleasure when you slap his face or spank him when he’s misbehaved a little too much for your liking. if you pair a harsh slap to his cute, chubby little cheeks with a mean slew of insults to his face as he fucks you in missionary, he’ll wind up keening so loud he has to bury his face in your neck to muffle the sound, lest you get a noise complaint from the neighbors in the morning. the sting of getting hit has so much blood rushing from his head to his cock in an instant that he gets dizzy with how good he feels, every. single. time.

⤷ BONUS!

this man is a munch. he eats you out at any opportunity like a man starved, fast and messy, just the way both you & him love. tug on his hair n it’ll have his eyes rolling as he buries his face into your cunt, eagerly lapping up your the juices that soak his chin with a whine while his hips buck involuntarily against the mattress. degrade him too, n he just might cum in his pants right then n there!

★ ──── FELIX

dom. doesn’t mind subbing if you ask, but it’s generally not his go-to.

⤷ ORGASM DENIAL.

this man is a little shit who adores bringing you right to the edge before ripping your orgasm out of your grasp with a delighted smirk. as soon as he rips whatever he was using on you away, whether it be his fingers or a toy, the way you convulse in protest and plead at him with watery eyes gets him so hot he nearly cums on the spot, even if nothing is actively stimulating his dick. he just loves to tease, what can he say?

⤷ SENSORY DEPRIVATION.

felix has no qualms with playing with you for hours when he blindfolds you and, sometimes, even plugs your ears when he really wants to get you on edge. seeing your breath quicken in anticipation for what he’ll do to you has his cock chubbing up in record time in the tight confines of his boxers, and the sight of you all docile and restrained for him has him half considering the idea of dropping the ties just to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck your brains out. but he always reins himself in just before he can fold, for you always look much prettier disheveled and begging for him to end the teasing and give you what you want.

⤷ HUMILIATION.

he loves making you cream all over his cock just to spew absolute filth at you for it. he can feel his sanity disappearing bit by bit when he gets to witness firsthand the way you slip into subspace at his vulgar, demeaning words in that deep voice of his, and it only gets him hotter when you begin to cry and beg him incoherently. for what, he isn’t quite sure because you’re too far gone to even speak properly anymore, but he’ll make sure you have all you need when you start clawing desperately at his shoulders with a beautiful, full-body shudder.

⤷ BONUS!

he’s lowkey a brat tamer! it gets him so riled up when you purposefully dress in your skimpiest clothes for the group nights you spend going out with the other guys, just to elicit a reaction out of him when you get home. and boy, is that reaction dangerous. he watches you like a hawk throughout the night, tongue constantly poking his cheek in annoyance while his jaw ticks when he sees you laughing with one of his members. he knows he has no real reason to be jealous, especially when he’s already aware you’re just looking to be put in your place, but that won’t stop him from taking all that emotion out on your cunt when everyone leaves later.

★ ──── SEUNGMIN

switch. he doesn’t have a preference & simply enjoys it all.

⤷ EXHIBITIONISM.

the adrenaline rush seungmin gets when he fucks you on the floor of their dance practice room once everyone’s gone for the day is so fucking heady and addictive. the thought of one of his members walking in to find him blowing your back out in the middle of the room is so arousing that he fucks you practically ten times harder than usual when the two of you mess around in semi-public places like this. one time, when you did happen to get caught blowing him backstage right before a soundcheck, his eyes had blown impossibly wide before he spilled down your throat with a choked groan. the two of you were horribly mortified after the fact, but he still secretly gets off to that memory when he’s away on tour.

⤷ DUMBIFICATION.

seeing you gradually lose coherency the longer he has you warm his cock while he busies himself with other tasks is one of his favorite pastimes. “hey, pup,” seungmin taps your shoulder delicately as he lightly jostles you in his lap, causing a moan to flutter from between your lips. when he grabs your chin to press a chaste kiss to the corners of your mouth, he nearly moans aloud too when he pulls back and sees how fucking gone you look. eyes fuzzy, pretty lips pulled into a dopey smile, and pussy stretched warm and wet around his now-throbbing cock. it’s insane to practice restraint with how sweet you look like this. “since you’ve been so good for me, i have a reward for you. how’s that sound, baby?”

⤷ PET PLAY.

when you come home after an outing with your friends to discover seungmin perched on the couch in nothing but the collar with your name attached to it and some dangerously low black sweats, you can’t help but drag him to the bedroom to leash him and force him to sit at your feet while you finish up some papers at your desk. he’s obedient for a little while, like he always is, until he starts getting antsy and whines for your attention. you pay him no mind until he begins to nose at the crotch of your bottoms, eager for a treat, and who are you to deny your sweet puppy a snack after he’s been so good and obedient for you?

⤷ BONUS!

he owns multiple different colored collars that have your name engraved onto the tags as well as a human-sized dog bed to pair with them. when he particularly craves submission, he’ll ask to be leashed and rode in the dog bed because it brings him an odd sense of comfort: being someone’s so wholly that he’s willing to wear a collar to show off who he belongs to, who owns him.

★ ──── JEONGIN

generally a dom. when he does sub, it’s nothing too crazy.

⤷ BEGGING.

jeongin loves to drive you to the point of incoherency with his mouth, hands, cock: all of it! it goes straight to both his dick and his ego when you’re reduced down to broken, babbling cries that beg him for more, less, harder, faster — somehow you plea for them all at once. he can’t get enough of how much you seem to love his body and the pleasure it can provide.

⤷ DACRYPHILIA.

it drives him insane when he sees you writhing with so much pleasure that it actually brings you to tears. every time your pretty eyes begin to water with unshed tears from the unforgiving pace he sets as he pounds into your poor cunt, it makes a loud moan rip from his throat and his dick twitch within your walls, and he may even nearly cum on the spot. he absolutely loves the sight of you desperate and babbling for his cum, and he’s not afraid to show it.

⤷ CORRUPTION KINK.

both of you were the farthest thing from inexperienced or vanilla when you first started dating, but that doesn’t stop jeongin from fucking his fist late at night to the fantasy he was your first. the first man to take your virginity, show you how to ride cock and suck on one, even teach you how to have your first orgasm because you’d been too unsure of yourself in the past to even try. the thought of you being pure and untouched before meeting him makes him ache with arousal, particularly at the thought of corrupting and ruining you for any other man because he just fucks you so good that both of you know you’d never be able to reach the same peaks of pleasure he brings you to again and again with anyone else.

⤷ BONUS!

he really enjoys 69ing. when he’s on top, he loves the sensation of his cock sliding down your throat and the clicking of your throat as it tries to accommodate his length. he loves the way your juices coat his chin as he messily slurps and sucks on your clit, and especially loves the way your thighs shake beside his ears when you get close. when he’s on the bottom, he adores the way you push your hips back onto his face to grind your clit down on his tongue, and adores the way you slip his cock into your mouth until you’re gagging around the tip and your tongue is laving hot and wetly at his balls. the rapid tightening of your throat around his dick has him close in seconds, but even if he comes early he’ll eat you out til you’re shaking with satisfaction.

[captain-bubble-wrap]

Reader doing her skincare routine with quinny?

└( ﾟ∀ﾟ)┘💚└(ﾟ∀ﾟ )┘

I changed this juuuuuuust slightly! 😘😘

"Hey, do you still want to watch that movie, or no?" Quinn asked, poking his head through your open bathroom door. You had your face over the sink as he talked, so his words were muffled by the sound of running water, but you got most of what he had asked. 

"Um, sure. I just need a few more minutes." Looking at him through the mirror, you hadn't realized how red his forehead was until he raked his fingers through his hair to expose it. "Honey, your skin is really red."

"It's okay," he replied, shrugging. 

Turning to face him, he looked at you confused. You had a look in your eye that meant you weren't about to let this go. 

"Baby, it's fine. It's just a few breakouts. I have them all the time."

"They're from your helmet, I know," you said, reaching up to touch his face. His skin was inflamed and you knew they had to be painful. "Can I help?"

Quinn sighed lightly, mainly because he didn't like to be fussed over, but he didn't want to hurt your feelings either. "You don't have to."

"I know, but I want to."

He knew you wanted to, so he folded without putting up a fight. "Okay, baby. Do whatever you want to."

You smiled warmly at his words, before giving him a soft kiss as a thank you. "Let me get you something to keep your hair out of your face first." 

From one of your drawers, you'd grab a thick, padded headband, made for just such things. Placing it behind his ears, you'd push it up and past his forehead to completely brush all the hair out of his eyes. He looked cute, even though you could tell he was absolutely embarrassed. 

"That's a look," he replied sheepishly, dropping his eyes from his reflection immediately. 

"You're cute, hush," you said, following a second kiss. "It's just us here."

Your words gave him enough reassurance to smile finally. Quinn stepped closer to the sink, seeing all of the various glass jars and bottles that littered your large counter. "Do you use all of these?"

"When I need to, yeah, but not all at once or anything. I won't use too many on you, though, so don't worry. I don't want to aggravate your skin anymore than it already is."

"What /are/ you going to do?" He asked, picking up one of the serum vials to press its button topper. 

"Going to start with a mask to draw what I can out of those blemishes, first."

"A mask?"

From a cabinet, you'd grab a clay mask jar and a silicone spatula to apply it with and had Quinn sit on the edge of your tub. 

"I'm going to warn you, as this dries, it's going to tighten, so you'll feel a slight pulling feeling, okay?"

He nodded, looking up at you slightly concerned, putting his hands on your hips as you stood between his legs. The product was cold to his skin, making him balk slightly at the sensation but not enough to pull away from you. 

"It's cold, I know. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he said, closing his eyes, his hands falling down to your bare thighs. You were wearing one of his Canucks t-shirts that was even too big for him, which was why you loved it to sleep in. 

"I'm just going to do your whole face."

Quinn smiled, "You don't need to waste all your products on me."

"I think we can confirm that I have enough," you giggled, painting the clay around his facial hair. "Almost done. It doesn't take much of this stuff."

"How long does it stay on?"

"Till it's completely dry, so probably fifteen-twenty minutes, give-or-take."

"Okay."

Quinn would stay seated on the tub edge while he watched you finish up your nightly routine. He was amazed with all of the steps you did, knowing he could never do the same. Every so often, you'd look over at  him, just sitting there, hands between his knees. He looked miserable.

"Are you okay, honey?" You asked, after noticing his expression change. 

"Yeah."

"You don't have to stay here with me if you don't want to, Quinn. You'd probably be more comfortable on the sofa or something."

He shook his head, "I'll stay with you, or am I hovering you?"

Sadness flooded your expression as you stepped towards him. "No, baby! You're not hovering! I just wanted to make sure you were okay!" You wanted to kiss him, but that wouldn't be the easiest at the moment. You'd settle for a soft smile which you made sure he saw. 

Quinn tried to smile as well, but the tightness of the drying clay made him stop his attempt, so he just kind of looked at you like a sad puppy. 

"It's almost dry, baby. Just a couple patches on your cheekbone. I must have gotten it a little thick there."

While the mask finished, you ran the water to get it a comfortable temperature beforehand. He was looking at the floor as you drenched the washcloth in the warm water and made your back to him. "Chin up, baby. Let me get this off of you."

Again, his hands would find your body, like you were his security blanket this time. In reality, he just wanted an excuse to touch you, which you never minded. Slowly, you'd make small swipes of the now pale-green product, revealing refreshed skin beneath. You would have to make several passes back and forth to the sink to rinse the cloth, and each time you did, he'd resume his holding of you. 

"I could have just stood by the sink, babe," Quinn said, feeling bad about making you make so many trips.

"It's no problem, but thank you." With everything but the problem spot to wash away, you'd bend down to give him that kiss he seemed so desperate to have. "I'm going to be real gentle now. Let me know if you need me to stop or anything."

"Okay, thank you."

First, you would just press the cloth to his skin, letting the product rehydrate slightly, to avoid having to aggressively scrub the area. Thankfully, it came off much easier after doing so. The redness was still apparent, but the size of the blemishes did look slightly reduced. 

"Look at that handsome man," you said, satisfied with the outcome. 

"Yeah, right," Quinn replied. "Am I done?"

"Not quite, baby. I have something else for you. That just helped dry up those spots. I need to actually treat them now." 

"Oh." 

It took you a moment, but eventually you found the sheet mask you had in mind.

"What is that?" He asked, seeing you pull the white blob out of the packaging. 

"It's a sheet mask," you laughed, unfolding it to reveal the shape of the face it was meant to cover. 

"That's weird."

"Yeah, they kind of are. Now, this one is going to be really cold compared to the last one."

"Alright. Oh, it's slimy," he said, as you aligned it with his face, making sure it wasn't in his eyes. 

"They're wonderful things, though. This one won't have to be washed off. And it's made for acne and stuff, so it's perfect for your problem. I have the same stuff that's in this mask in a pump. Why don't you take it and use it after your games? Then your forehead won't be so aggravated and painful. And before you decline my offer, I have a couple of them," you finished with a wink, knowing he was apt to bring it up. 

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. I promise it will help."

Quinn smiled, giving you a squeeze as you still stood over him. "Well, now what?"

"We can start that movie if you want. Those masks you can sleep in, so there's no real time limit." 

"Sure." He rose to his feet, giving your cheek a soft touch with the back of his fingers. "I appreciate you wanting to help me. I'm clueless about all of this stuff."

"No problem, honey. It was fun," you smiled. "You should feel a lot of relief in the morning." 

"I hope looking like this is worth it," he shook his head, seeing what he looked like before leaving the bathroom with you. 

[woozinhos]

Can you please do the child interrupts request with Minghao?

Minghao pushed the door open quietly, trying not to wake you. He had been up all night taking care of the baby and was exhausted, but he still wanted to check in on you before going to bed himself. As he entered the room, he saw you sleeping peacefully in bed. He smiled softly, his heart swelling with love and affection. He made his way over to the bed, trying not to make too much noise as he climbed in beside you. He wrapped his arms around you gently, pulling you close to him. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling your scent as he held you tightly.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "And I love our little one."

Minghao's arms tightened around you as he felt a pang of longing. It had been a while since he and you had been intimate, and he couldn't help but miss the feeling of being close to you in that way. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of your neck, his body molding against yours as he snuggled closer. He knew he should be trying to sleep, but he found himself becoming increasingly distracted by the feel of your body against his. He started to run his hand over your hip, his touch light and gentle. He traced patterns over your skin, his fingers lingering on the sensitive spots he knew so well.

Minghao smiled as he heard your moan, his hand pausing for a moment before resuming its exploration of your body. He shifted closer to you, his body pressing against yours from behind. He continued to run his hand over your hip, his fingers slowly moving lower. He gently squeezed your thigh, his touch becoming more possessive.

"I've missed you," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "I've missed this."

Minghao's hand continued to roam over your body, his touch growing more confident and insistent. He gently nipped at your earlobe, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire. "I can't stop thinking about you, about being with you like this."

Minghao moved his hand up your body, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist before moving to your stomach. He gently rubbed the soft skin there, his touch gentle and affectionate.

"I love seeing you like this," he whispered, his hand moving up to cup your breast. "So beautiful, so full of life."

Minghao's thumb brushed over your nipple, sending a shiver down your spine. He could feel you responding to his touch, your body starting to arch against him. He kissed the back of your neck again, his lips trailing down to your shoulder. He nipped at your skin, his teeth grazing over your sensitive flesh.

"I need you," he growled, his voice low and urgent. "I need you so badly."

Minghao's hand moved back down to your hip, his grip tightening as he pulled you closer to him. He could feel his arousal growing, his body reacting to your closeness.

"I can't wait any longer," he said, his voice hoarse with need. "I need to be inside you."

Minghao rolled you onto your back, his body covering yours as he looked down at you with a hungry gaze. He leaned in to kiss you deeply, his lips claiming yours in a passionate embrace. His hands roamed over your body, touching and caressing every inch of you. He kissed along your jawline, nipping and sucking at your skin as he moved lower.

"You're mine," he whispered against your skin. "And I'm going to show you just how much I've missed you."

Minghao's mouth moved lower, his lips trailing down your neck and over your collarbone. He took his time, leaving a trail of kisses and love bites as he went. He continued to touch you, his hands sliding over your curves as he whispered words of praise and adoration against your skin.

"You're so beautiful," he said, his voice thick with desire. "So perfect. I can't get enough of you."

Minghao reached the waistband of your pajama pants, his fingers hooking under the fabric. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with lust.

"Can I take these off?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

You nodded, your heart racing in anticipation. Minghao smiled and began to slide your pajama pants down, his fingers brushing against your skin as he went. He tossed the pants aside and looked at you, his gaze filled with hunger. He ran his hands up your legs, his touch sending shivers through your body.

"You're so beautiful," he repeated, his eyes raking over your body. "I can't believe you're mine."

Minghao's hands moved up your thighs, his touch gentle but possessive. He pushed your legs apart, settling himself between them as he leaned down to kiss you again. He deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as he pressed his body against yours. You could feel his arousal through his clothes, hot and hard against your skin.

Minghao kicked his pants aside, leaving him naked above you. He looked down at you with a hungry gaze, his eyes roaming over your body hungrily. He leaned down to kiss you again, his hands moving to grip your hips. He pulled you closer to him, grinding his hips against yours. Minghao chuckled as he tapped his dick against you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Someone's eager," he teased, his voice low and rough. "You want me that badly, huh?"

Minghao slowly entered you, his movements gentle but deliberate. He watched your face, gauging your reaction as he slowly filled you. He groaned as he sank into you, his eyes closing in pleasure. "God, you feel so good," he moaned, his hips stilling as he fully sheathed himself inside you.

Minghao let out a shuddering breath, his body trembling with restraint. "It has been too long," he agreed, his voice strained. "I've missed being inside you like this."

He leaned down to kiss you again, his lips claiming yours in a passionate embrace. He started to move slowly, his hips rolling against yours in a gentle rhythm. Minghao's movements grew more urgent, his thrusts becoming faster and harder as he lost himself in the sensation of being with you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips leaving a trail of kisses and bites along your skin. He murmured your name over and over again, his voice rough with desire.

"I've missed this so much," he groaned, his fingers digging into your hips as he held you tightly. "You have no idea how much I've needed you."

Minghao's eyes snapped open, his movements stilling as he heard the sound of the baby crying. He groaned in frustration, his body tense with unfulfilled desire.

"Damn it," he muttered, pulling away from you reluctantly. "I was so close."

Minghao watched as you got up and put your robe on, a look of disappointment on his face. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself down.

"I'll get him," he said, moving to get out of bed.

“Hao I’m happy to go take care of him it’s alright you know,” You say looking at him.

Minghao hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering between you and the direction of the baby's cries. He wanted nothing more than to finish what you had started, but he knew that taking care of the baby was more important.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of disappointment. "I don't want you to feel like you have to take care of him all the time."

You smiled and nodded, reassuring him that you didn't mind. "It's okay," you said, giving him a gentle pat on the arm. "I'll go take care of him. You rest."

Minghao watched as you left the room, his body still tense with unfulfilled desire. He fell back onto the bed with a frustrated sigh, running a hand over his face. Minghao waited in bed, trying to calm himself down. He could still feel the ache of desire in his body, his skin still tingling from your touch. He listened as you took care of the baby, his mind wandering back to the moment you had been interrupted. He couldn't help but imagine what might have happened if the baby hadn't woken up.

Minghao was restless in bed, his thoughts consumed by the memory of your body against his. He tried to distract himself by scrolling through his phone, but his mind kept drifting back to you. He could hear the faint sounds of you talking to the baby, your soft voice carrying through the baby monitor. He couldn't help but imagine what you looked like in your robe, holding the baby in your arms. After what felt like an eternity, you finally came back to the bedroom, the baby now sleeping. Minghao looked up as you entered, his eyes roaming over your figure.

"Is he asleep?" he asked, his voice rough with desire.

You nodded. "Yeah, he finally fell asleep," you said, turning to face Minghao.

You could see the hunger in his eyes, the way he was looking at you making your heart race. You knew he was still thinking about what had happened earlier. Minghao's eyes darkened as he watched you walk towards the bed. He sat up, his gaze never leaving your body.

"Come here," he said, his voice low and commanding. "I need you."

[mommyownsmee]

SUBMISSIVE VERSION ~6.393 words

DOM/ME VERSION ~3.885 words

[Inspiration] ♡

I wake up to the soft warmth of sunlight streaming through the curtains, and the first thing I feel is you. Your presence is a quiet hum of comfort, grounding me before my eyes even open. The bed feels impossibly soft, and I’m cocooned in our shared haven—our sanctuary. I barely notice the room around me at first, too focused on the steady beat of your breathing beside me and the faint scent of you lingering in the sheets.

I shift slightly, my body still heavy with sleep, as I hear your voice—low and soothing, wrapping around me like a gentle caress. "Good morning, my love," you whisper, and the sound alone melts something inside me. I murmur something half-formed, instinctively turning toward you, seeking the warmth and safety I know only you can give. I feel your lips brush against my temple, and my heart stirs even before my body fully does.

"Time to get up, baby. I’ve got everything ready for you." Your words are so soft, so assured, and they fill me with a sense of peace I haven’t felt all week. The kind of peace only you can provide.

When my eyes finally flutter open, the first thing I notice is the golden glow bathing the room. The space feels alive with quiet intimacy, like it’s holding its breath just for us. I glance toward the window, the curtains slightly parted just enough to let the morning light kiss the wooden floors. Everything about this room feels like us. The books we’ve shared, the small treasures scattered throughout—a pressed flower, a photo, a painting I made one lazy afternoon. It’s all here, surrounding me with the tangible reminders of the life we’ve built together.

But more than the room, it’s you. You’re the reason this moment feels sacred to me.

I glance toward the foot of the bed and see the clothes you’ve chosen for me: my favorite oversized sweater, the one I always reach for when I need to feel safe, paired with leggings and warm socks. I don’t have to think about what to wear. I don’t have to think about anything. You’ve already decided for me, thought of every detail, just as you always do. It’s a small thing, but it feels monumental—a reminder that I don’t have to carry it all. Not here. Not now.

I look back at you, and you’re watching me, propped on one elbow, your eyes warm and steady. You always look at me like this, like I’m yours and yours alone. It’s in that gaze that I find myself letting go. The tension in my shoulders, the tightness in my chest from a week of being too much for too many—it all starts to slip away under the weight of your care.

I don’t have to be anything but this. Just yours. Just here. Just us.

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice still thick with sleep but full of the gratitude I feel in every part of me. You smile, leaning in to press another kiss to my forehead, and I close my eyes again, savoring it. Today, I’m not running on empty. Today, I’m not running at all. You won’t let me.

Today, there’s no space for me to lose myself in the world. Today, I’ll lose myself in you.

When I walk into the kitchen, the rich, comforting aroma of tea and freshly made food wraps around me like a warm embrace. The sunlight streaming through the tall windows bathes the room in a golden glow, but what draws my attention is you. You're already seated, calm and poised, sipping your tea as though you've been waiting just for me. I hesitate for a moment in the doorway, caught between wanting to stay rooted there and needing to come closer.

You glance up, and the soft smile that curves your lips makes my heart flutter.

"Come here," you say, your voice so soothing, so sure. There's no hesitation in your tone, no room for anything but trust, and I step forward, drawn to you like I always am.

I sit down across from you, my gaze flickering over the table before meeting your steady eyes. I open my mouth to speak, to ask, to say something, but you stop me with a subtle shake of your head. "Set the table for me, baby. No questions. Just do as I say." Your voice is warm but firm, guiding me with that familiar authority that makes me feel safe, even when I'm not sure what you're thinking.

Without a word, I move to obey. My hands work automatically, setting the plates and utensils in their proper places, each movement deliberate and focused. As I do, I can feel your eyes on me, watching every motion with quiet intensity. When you finally speak, your words are soft but powerful. "Good girl."

The praise washes over me, filling me with a quiet pride that feels almost too big to contain. My cheeks grow warm, and I know I'm blushing, but I can't help it. I love being your good girl, love how those words make my heart swell and my body relax all at once.

After breakfast, we move to the living room, the cozy space that feels like a little world we've made for ourselves.

The plush gray sofa, piled high with soft pillows, seems to beckon me. A blanket—our blanket-drapes over the back, always ready for moments like this. The faint scent of lavender fills the air, blending with the gentle hum of music coming from the record player. It's all so perfect, so carefully designed to make me feel calm, cared for, and so utterly yours.

You settle onto the couch and pull me into your lap, your arms wrapping around me in a way that feels both protective and possessive. The blanket comes around us, cocooning me in warmth, and I feel your fingers brushing through my hair. The movie you've chosen is one of my favorites, a story I know by heart, one that lets my mind wander without losing its rhythm. But I'm not paying attention to the screen; all my focus is on you.

Your fingers comb through my hair in slow, soothing strokes, and I melt against you, my body softening with every gentle touch. Your lips press against the top of my head, my temple, the sensitive curve of my neck. Each kiss feels like a quiet promise, a reminder that I'm yours and that this moment is ours.

I can't help the way my hands clutch at your shirt, anchoring myself to you as I feel myself sinking further into this space you've created for me. My gaze drifts to your lips, your collarbone, the graceful lines of your neck and chest. I want to speak, to tell you how much I need this, how much I need you, but the words catch in my throat. It doesn't matter. You already know.

"Good girl," you murmur, your voice so soft it feels like a secret meant just for me. "You're doing so well for me. Just let go."

And I do. The tension l've been carrying all week dissolves into nothingness, leaving me weightless in your arms. My body grows pliant, my breathing slows, and my thoughts fade until there's nothing left but the feeling of you-your touch, your voice, the steady rhythm of your heart.

In this space, there's no need for words, no need for control. There's only surrender, quiet and blissful, and the warmth of knowing I'm exactly where I belong: with you.

The bathroom you later decide to go to with me is warm and inviting, the soft glow of candlelight reflecting off the tiled walls. The air is filled with the soothing scent of vanilla and sandalwood, wrapping around me like a comforting embrace. The tub is already filled, steam curling upward, and you’re there, your hands steady and sure as they guide me closer. Every detail feels intentional, like it’s been created just for me, to ease away the tension I didn’t realize I was still holding.

You help me into the bath, your hands firm on my waist, and I feel the warmth of the water envelop me. It’s not just the heat that relaxes me; it’s you. Your presence is grounding, your care palpable in every motion. As your hands follow the water over my skin, I can’t help the way my breath hitches. Your touch is slow, deliberate, reverent. You linger just enough to remind me who I belong to, and I can feel my cheeks growing warm, a blush creeping across my skin. I know you notice—I know you always notice—and when your eyes meet mine, the heat in your gaze only deepens my surrender.

Then you murmur, "Do you want Mommy to dry you off?"

The question catches me off guard, and I gasp softly, my lips parting as the meaning sinks in. My blush deepens instantly, the warmth spreading from my cheeks all the way down to my chest. I can barely find the words, so I nod instead, unable to do anything else under the weight of your gaze. Your smile is soft, knowing, and it makes my heart stutter in my chest.

"You know how to make Mommy happy, don’t you, baby?" you whisper, your voice low and intimate as you wrap me in a towel. The fabric is soft against my skin, but it’s your arms around me that truly make me feel safe. I lean into you, my body sinking into your embrace. Every thought, every worry, every piece of myself that feels too much—you take it all away, leaving only the quiet hum of belonging.

And as the evening drifts on, you lead me to the bedroom, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a golden hue over the space. The towel is still wrapped around me as I sit on the edge of the bed, the satin nightgown you laid out resting beside me. My fingers brush against the fabric for a moment, but I hesitate. My mind feels so soft, so quiet, that even the idea of dressing myself feels like too much. I glance at you instead, silently waiting, knowing you’ll guide me. You always do.

"Stand up, baby," you say softly, your voice steady and soothing. The command flows over me like water, and I obey without a second thought, rising to my feet with a quietness that feels natural under your gaze. You pick up the nightgown, the silky fabric sliding through your fingers before you lift it over my head. The touch of the material against my skin is cool at first, but your hands are warm as they smooth the gown over my shoulders and down my sides. Your touch lingers just a little longer than necessary, your fingers brushing against my skin, and I shiver, a soft sigh escaping my lips.

When your eyes meet mine, I feel that familiar warmth flood through me again, the blush creeping back as your fingers tilt my chin up. Your lips find mine, soft and commanding, and I melt into the kiss, letting it ground me even further. When you pull back, your gaze holds me steady.

"Perfect," you murmur, the word like a balm against my quiet insecurities. "You're absolutely perfect."

In that moment, I believe you. Because with you, I am.

The bedroom feels warm, wrapped in a quiet intimacy that settles over me like a second skin. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a golden light across the walls, highlighting the delicate, familiar details of this space we share. The air is a mix of lavender and sandalwood, lingering from the bath we took earlier, but more than anything, it’s the scent of you that grounds me, that keeps me present in this moment.

You guide me to the bed, your hands firm but gentle as you help me settle onto my back. The cool satin of my nightgown clings to my skin, and I can feel your eyes roaming over me, drinking me in. I blush under your gaze, the intensity of it making my body feel both exposed and cherished. The emerald green fabric feels almost decadent against my skin, the way it drapes and clings to every curve making me feel utterly beautiful, even before you speak a word.

The thin straps have slipped slightly from my shoulders, and the cool air brushes against the places where the fabric doesn’t quite cover. My thighs are bare, and the hem of the gown rests just above them, teasingly short, almost too much. I can feel how much you’re taking in, how you’re savoring the sight of me, and it makes my heart race, my breathing shallow.

But then there’s you. You’re still partially dressed, your shirt unbuttoned and hanging loosely over your shoulders. My eyes keep flickering to your chest, exposed just enough to make my pulse quicken.

I can feel my chest rising and falling quickly as I lie there, clutching at the duvet like it’s the only thing tethering me to the bed. But it’s not the duvet holding me steady—it’s you. It’s always you.

You lean over me, your palms pressing into the mattress on either side of my head, caging me in with your body. Your lips brush against my ear, and your voice, low and commanding, sends a shiver down my spine. "Look at me, baby," you say softly, and I obey instantly, tilting my head up to meet your gaze. Your eyes hold me captive, and I know I’m completely undone, completely yours. I can’t hide how far I’ve fallen into this space you’ve created for me, how my mind feels hazy, my body soft and pliant beneath your touch. My lips part as if to speak, but no words come. I don’t need to say anything—you already know.

"Look at you," you whisper, your thumb brushing over my bottom lip, and the touch makes my breath catch. "You’re so far gone, aren’t you, my sweet girl? So soft, so obedient, just the way I like you." Your words make my body melt further into the bed, and I nod faintly, trembling under the weight of your attention. Every part of me is laid bare for you, and I can feel your love, your care, in every word, every touch.

"My perfect little plaything," you murmur, your voice like a warm caress, and then your lips find mine. The kiss is soft at first, tender and grounding, but it deepens quickly, turning possessive and commanding. I respond without thought, my hands clutching at your shirt as though holding onto you is the only thing that matters. My breath hitches as you press closer, your body warm and solid against mine.

Your hand trails down my side, your touch featherlight and teasing, and I can’t stop the soft whimper that escapes my lips. The sound feels raw, unfiltered, but you love it—I can see it in the way your eyes darken, in the way your lips curve into a knowing smile against mine. That sound, that surrender-it's all for you.

Everything I am in this moment is for you.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

"You don’t have to think about anything," you whisper against my lips, and the sound of your voice melts through me, soft and commanding all at once. Your hand is slow and deliberate as it trails lower, and I feel every inch of its path, like it’s leaving a mark on my skin. "You don’t have to do anything. Just let me take care of you."

I nod, a trembling motion I can’t quite control, the weight of your words sinking into me, making my body feel impossibly soft and malleable beneath your touch. "That’s good," you murmur, and the way your tone wraps around me, warm and possessive, sends a shiver through my body. It’s a reaction I can’t hide—not from you, not ever—and the way your lips curve into the faintest smile tells me you already know.

Your hand trails down my side, fingers grazing the curve of my waist and teasing the sensitive dip of my hip. It’s so gentle, yet it leaves my body trembling, my breath catching as you linger just long enough to make me ache. When a soft, helpless whimper escapes me, I see the way your eyes darken, your breath catching just as mine does. You lean down, brushing a kiss to the corner of my mouth, then to the hollow of my throat. "I’m so proud of you," you murmur against my skin, and those words, so quiet and so full of meaning, make me feel like I might come undone right there.

"Always so good for me. Always so ready to give me everything."

I feel the weight of your body as you shift, pressing closer to me, grounding me in the warmth and solidity of you. Your hand moves lower, slipping under the hem of my satin nightgown, and I can’t stop the soft gasp that escapes my lips. My hands clutch the sheets, twisting them in my fingers as I try to hold onto something—anything—to keep myself steady. But there’s nothing steady about this moment, about the way my body arches instinctively toward your touch, about the trembling breaths that I can’t quite control.

"You’re so soft like this," you whisper, your lips brushing against my ear. Your voice carries that quiet, commanding tone that makes me shiver. "So pliable, so obedient. I could do anything I want to you, and you’d let me, wouldn’t you, baby?"

My cheeks burn as I nod again, the movement small, hesitant, but undeniable. The blush spreading across my skin feels impossibly hot, but your smile—soft against my skin—only deepens the sensation, making me feel even more exposed in the best way.

When your fingers slip away from the hem of my gown, I almost whimper again, my body leaning toward you instinctively, aching for the loss of your touch. But you’re not done with me—of course you’re not. Your fingers glide down my arm, featherlight, teasing, until they catch the thin strap of my nightgown. You tug it down slowly, baring one of my shoulders, then the other, your lips following the motion of your hand. Each kiss leaves my skin buzzing, every touch making me sink deeper into this space you’ve created for me.

"You look so beautiful in this," you murmur, your voice low and full of quiet command. "But I think I’d like you even better out of it."

Your words send a fresh wave of heat through me, and I watch you as you sit back on your knees, your hands moving with deliberate care as you slide the satin down my body. Inch by inch, you expose my skin, and I can feel your eyes on every part of me, taking me in as though this is the first time you’ve seen me like this.

The air feels cooler against my bare skin, but your gaze burns, leaving no room for the chill to linger. I’m completely exposed beneath you now, my body warm and trembling, my thighs pressing together as though I can somehow ease the ache building inside me. But I know there’s no relief—not until you decide to give it to me. I can see it in your eyes, that possessive, unshakable certainty that makes my breath catch.

I glance up at you, my lips parting as though to speak, but the words don’t come. I don’t need to say anything. I know you can see it—the way my body quivers under your gaze, the way I look at you with complete trust, complete surrender.

"You don’t have to hide from me," you say softly, your voice so warm and sure it melts through me. I feel your hands slide down my sides, your fingers grazing those sensitive spots that make me shiver. The way you touch me, the way you speak—it’s like you’re peeling back every layer of me until there’s nothing left but this: soft, open, and completely yours. "You don’t have to think. Just let me take care of you."

Your words ground me, soothe me, and all I can do is nod, letting myself sink further into the moment. When you lean down, your lips press against mine in a kiss that starts soft, teasing, like a question you already know the answer to. But then it deepens, your tongue sweeping against mine with a claiming intensity that leaves me breathless. I can’t help the soft moan that escapes me, my hands instinctively clutching at your shirt, needing something to hold onto. Every touch, every kiss from you feels electric, like my body was made for this—made for you.

Your lips trail lower, leaving a path of warmth and fire along my neck, my collarbone, my chest. My breath quickens, my body arching into your touch as though it has a mind of its own. Your hands are everywhere—firm, deliberate, possessive—as they trace the curve of my waist, the softness of my thighs. When you spread my legs, I feel my blush deepen, the vulnerability of the moment making my chest flutter. But I don’t resist. I could never resist you.

"You’ve been so perfect for me today," you murmur, your voice like a caress as you press a kiss to the inside of my thigh. The sensation sends a shiver through me, and I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks. "Always so eager to please. Do you know how much I love you like this?"

I nod, my voice trembling as I manage to whisper, "Yes, mommy." Saying the words makes me feel small and safe in a way I can’t explain, and the way your eyes light up in response fills me with warmth.

"Good girl," you say, and the praise hits me like a wave, making me melt further into the bed. Your voice is low, full of promise and control, and it sends a thrill through me. "I’m going to take care of you tonight. You don’t have to do anything but be mine."

I let out a shaky breath as you lean down again, brushing your lips against mine in a kiss that’s soft but lingering, like you’re reminding me that I’m exactly where I belong. Your hand trails over my cheek, gentle and grounding, and I turn into your touch, unable to stop myself from seeking the comfort you so effortlessly provide.

"Stay here," you murmur, your voice low and commanding, the kind of tone that leaves no room for anything but obedience. "Don’t move. Keep those pretty legs right where they are for me, baby."

I nod again, my body already trembling under the weight of your words, my thighs instinctively pressing together before I stop myself. You smile—soft, knowing, and entirely in control—and I feel the way my body relaxes, giving itself over to you completely. There's no room for thought, no room for hesitation. There's only you, and the quiet surrender that makes me feel so perfectly yours.

My heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest, my breathing uneven as I watch you lean down, pressing one last soft, grounding kiss to my temple. That simple touch steadies me, even as anticipation buzzes through my entire body.

Then you rise, leaving me lying there, small and soft and completely exposed under your gaze. My eyes follow you instinctively, wide and adoring, unable to tear away as you stand above me, the shift in power between us making my pulse quicken. There’s something about the way you look down at me—with that quiet, unshakable authority—that makes me feel utterly yours in a way that’s both thrilling and terrifying in its intensity.

You move to the corner of the room, to the dresser, and the sound of the drawer opening fills the quiet space. I don’t move, I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I just watch, my body frozen in a mixture of anticipation and need as your hands find the harness and strap. The faint creak of leather as you fasten the buckles seems impossibly loud in the stillness, and my breath hitches as I realize what’s about to happen.

I can’t look away. My eyes are glued to your hands, the way they move over the leather with practiced ease, the way you adjust each strap with deliberate care. I can feel my blush deepening, the heat crawling up my neck and into my cheeks as I watch you prepare yourself. My breathing grows heavier, my chest rising and falling in shallow gasps, and I can feel my thighs shifting of their own accord, trying to press together, though I know it won’t offer me any relief.

The harness wraps around you perfectly, dark leather fitting snugly against your body, framing your hips in a way that feels almost too powerful to look at. The strap is sleek and smooth, intimidating but not overwhelming, and it’s impossible not to be hyper-aware of every detail. You adjust the buckles one last time, making sure everything is just so, and then you turn back to me.

Our eyes meet, and the intensity in your gaze makes me feel like I’m going to melt into the bed. There’s something in the way you look at me—a mixture of power and affection, desire and control—that leaves me trembling. My chest tightens, my breath catching as my thighs press together again without thinking, a futile attempt to calm the ache growing inside me.

You smirk, and the deliberate confidence in that simple expression makes my whole body feel like it’s on fire. I watch, transfixed, as you cross the room back to me, every step slow and measured, every movement exuding a power that leaves me breathless. My eyes can’t stop drinking you in, the way the harness hugs your body, the way you carry yourself with such deliberate authority. It’s overwhelming, and yet, I can’t imagine looking away.

You stop at the edge of the bed, standing over me, and the weight of your gaze makes me tremble. My body feels small, pliant, and completely exposed to you, and I know you can see it—the way I shiver under your eyes, the way I grip the duvet just a little tighter, trying to keep myself from falling apart too soon.

"I think you’ve earned a reward, don’t you?" Your voice is soft but steady, laced with that quiet authority that makes me want to do nothing but obey. The words make my heart race, my body arching slightly without even meaning to, and all I can do is nod, unable to find my voice.

I nod quickly, my eyes darting between your face and the strap, my cheeks burning with a blush I can’t control. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I feel utterly exposed, trembling under your steady, knowing gaze.

"You can’t speak, baby?" you murmur, your voice soft but laced with power. I shiver as your fingers trail along the curve of my thigh, the touch light but commanding, pulling a quiet whimper from my lips. "Do you want this? Do you want me to fill you, to remind you who you belong to?"

"Y-Yes," I manage to whisper, my voice barely audible, shaky with anticipation. My body feels like it’s humming, my mind soft and pliant, and your smile sends a thrill through me—a mixture of tenderness and control that makes me melt even more.

You climb onto the bed with deliberate grace, settling between my legs, and I feel the press of the harness against my skin as you lower yourself over me. The weight of you is grounding, the warmth of your body pulling me deeper into this space where nothing else exists but you. Your hands frame my face, your touch firm but gentle as you tilt my chin up so our eyes meet. I can’t look away. The intensity of your gaze holds me completely, and when your lips find mine, the kiss is slow, possessive, leaving no doubt in my mind that I’m yours.

"You’re mine," you murmur against my lips, the words a quiet promise that settles deep in my chest. "Every inch of you belongs to me."

I nod again, the motion small and trembling, and you smile, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. The praise that follows, "Good girl," feels like it wraps around me, sinking into my skin. I let out a shaky breath, surrendering completely as you whisper, "Now, let me take care of you."

I feel you guide yourself against me, the strap sliding along my wetness, teasing and deliberate. My body arches instinctively, my hands clutching at the sheets as soft, desperate sounds escape my lips. The ache inside me is overwhelming, and I can’t stop the quiet moans that rise as you take your time, coaxing every bit of need from me.

"So responsive," you murmur, your voice filled with quiet admiration as your hand cups my cheek. Your gaze meets mine, and the love and control I see there make me feel like I could cry from the intensity of it. "You’re perfect like this, baby. Completely mine."

When you finally push into me, it’s slow and deliberate, every inch a reminder of your ownership, of how fully I belong to you. I gasp softly, my back arching as my body adjusts, the fullness grounding me and pushing me further into surrender. You still for a moment, your hands steady on my hips, your presence calming and reassuring.

"You’re doing so well," you whisper, your voice gentle, like a balm. The kiss you press to my temple makes my chest ache with how much I love you. "You take me so perfectly, my love."

The rhythm you set is slow at first, teasing and deliberate, pulling soft gasps and quiet whimpers from my lips with every movement. Your hands grip my thighs, keeping me open for you, and I feel completely vulnerable, completely exposed—but safe, so utterly safe in your hands.

My chest rises and falls quickly, my breaths uneven as my body responds to you without hesitation. Every motion, every touch, every word you murmur feels like it’s unraveling me, drawing me closer to something I can’t quite name but trust you to lead me to.

"That’s it," you murmur, your voice low and steady, a grounding force in the haze. "Let go for me, baby. Let me take you where you need to go."

And I do. I let go of everything-every thought, every hesitation, every piece of myself that doesn't belong in this moment. My body moves with yours, my breath catching on every gasp, every moan that escapes me, and all I can feel, all I can be, is yours.

As the pace quickens, the room fills with the sound of us moving together, the rhythm of our bodies blending with the heat of your whispered praise. My head spins, my breath coming in shallow gasps as your voice cuts through the haze, grounding me, owning me. Your lips find mine, the kiss possessive and deep, stealing what little breath I have left. One hand tangles in my hair, holding me in place, while the other steadies me, keeping me anchored beneath you.

"You’re so good for me," you whisper against my lips, your voice low and full of intent. "So perfect. My good girl."

The words make my chest tighten, a flood of warmth rushing through me that only fuels the fire already consuming me. My moans spill out louder now, raw and unrestrained, mixing with the steady rhythm of your movements. I feel completely exposed, utterly vulnerable, and yet, I’ve never felt safer than I do in this moment, beneath you, yours.

Your hands slide up my body, your fingers brushing along the curve of my waist, the swell of my chest, before settling on my hips. The pressure of your grip is firm, commanding, keeping me exactly where you want me, holding me steady as you move with deliberate purpose. Every thrust feels like a claim, and my body arches instinctively, desperate to give you everything you ask for.

My head falls back against the pillows, exposing my throat to you, and the moment your lips press there, I shiver, gasping as your teeth graze just enough to leave a spark of sensation behind. Your breath is hot against my skin as you murmur, "I love you," and the tenderness in your voice makes my heart ache, even as my body burns for more. "You’re always so good. Always what I need."

Your words fill me completely, making me tremble with a mix of love and surrender. My hands reach for you, clutching at your back, your arms, anything I can hold onto to keep myself grounded as wave after wave of sensation crashes over me. My fingers curl into you, nails pressing into your skin, and I feel your body respond to my touch, your movements becoming even more deliberate.

Then your hand tilts my chin up, and my hazy eyes meet yours. The intensity in your gaze holds me captive, and the vulnerability you find in mine makes me feel like I might unravel entirely. My chest tightens with love, my body trembling as I try to keep my focus, to give you everything you’re asking for.

"Look at me," you command softly, your voice steady but laced with a quiet power I could never resist. "Don’t look away. I want to see you when you fall apart."

I nod, barely able to manage the motion, my lips parting as if to speak, but no words come. The only sound I can make is a sharp gasp when you adjust your angle, your movements suddenly hitting the perfect spot. My body arches involuntarily, a cry escaping my lips as the pleasure rushes through me.

"There it is," you murmur, your voice filled with satisfaction as your lips curve into a knowing smile. "That’s my girl. Take it for me. Let me see how good I can make you feel."

Your words push me closer to the edge, your touch guiding me, commanding me, as my body responds to you with complete surrender. I don’t think, I don't hold back-there's nothing but this moment, nothing but you. The way you look at me, the way you move, the way you call me yours-it all consumes me, pulling me under, until there's nothing left but the bliss of falling apart for you.

Your breath comes in short, uneven gasps, my hands clutching desperately at the sheets as you push me closer and closer to the edge. My body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending alive and attuned to you. I can’t stop the way my legs tremble around you, the way your name falls from my lips like a prayer, broken and pleading. "You’re so close, aren’t you, baby?" you ask, your voice low and filled with promise, and the sound sends a fresh wave of shivers through me. "Let go for me. I want to feel you fall apart."

Your words tip me over the edge. With a shuddering gasp, I give in completely, letting myself unravel for you, my body and mind wholly yours in this moment. The release washes over me like a wave, overwhelming and all-encompassing, and the only thing grounding me is you. The way you hold me, the steadiness of your presence—it keeps me safe even as I fall apart.

My body tenses for a moment, every muscle tightening under the force of my climax, and then I melt beneath you, soft and trembling. My cries fill the air, raw and unrestrained, and I know you hear them, know they’re for you. You keep your hands steady on my hips, your movements slowing just enough to guide me through the waves of release, letting me ride them until there’s nothing left but quiet, blissful surrender.

"That’s it," you whisper, your lips brushing against my ear, your voice soft and full of love. "So beautiful. So perfect."

Your words make my chest ache in the best way, a warmth spreading through me that has nothing to do with the heat of the moment and everything to do with the way you see me. The way you know me.

When you finally still, I’m trembling, my chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. My body feels soft, pliant, completely spent beneath you, but your touch keeps me grounded. You press gentle kisses to my forehead, my cheeks, my lips, and each one feels like a tether, pulling me back to you, back to safety.

"You did so well for me," you murmur, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. Your voice is tender, full of pride and affection, and the words make me feel like I’ve given you something meaningful, something precious. "I’m so proud of you, my love."

You pull out slowly, carefully, your movements so deliberate that even the slight loss feels gentle. I can’t help the soft whimper that escapes me, my body already missing the fullness of you, and my hands instinctively reach for you, needing to feel you close. You smile—a soft, knowing smile that makes me feel so deeply seen-and you gather me into your arms without hesitation.

The blanket comes around us as you settle back onto the bed, holding me against your chest, and I relax into you completely. My head rests on your shoulder, your steady heartbeat grounding me in the aftermath. Your fingers stroke through my hair in slow, soothing motions, your voice soft and reassuring as you murmur, "You're safe. You're mine. You've always been mine."

And I believe you. I always will. In your arms, I know I'm exactly where I belong.

[sammyluvr]

✶ out of my head — spencer reid

cw : gn!bau!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, mental exhaustion, very little dialogue, unedited, 985 words. requested ! for my 900 followers event [ closed ] .

prompt : a motel bathroom + “i can’t get you out of my head.”

the town is small, the case is hard, and the nights aren’t restful. for this week, it’s two to a seedy motel room. spencer’s your roommate this time around, which helps nothing at all. you should be used to how beautiful he looks when he’s sleepy and just woken up in the morning, but it makes your chest tighten to the point where you nearly stop breathing. it’s not as if you haven’t shared a room with him for a case before, but there’s some weird intimacy about sharing this room.

he’s in the bathroom, washing his hands, as he’s been doing often this trip. the first time you walked into the room with him, go-bags heavy after a long flight, he sprouted off some statistic regarding the cleanliness of motel rooms, or rather the lack thereof. you think he was trying to cover up how nervous it made him, and you offered to take his sheets and blanket to the laundromat you passed. the signage had told you that it’s always open late. you certainly wouldn’t mind extra clean sheets either.

he refused, though, saying he’d do it himself if he really needed to, and that you shouldn’t have to do that for him. but you don’t really think about it in terms of should or shouldn’t, more so that it makes you glad to do anything for him at all. you stay quiet though, and let this one slide. as long as he sleeps alright, it’s fine with you. 

sleeping well is a relative term, of course. it’s two in the morning right now, and you’ve just gotten back from the station. hotch sent you all to bed after a break in the case. the night shift detectives will keep working until you all get at least a bit of rest.

you drift over to the bathroom, its warm light casting spencer’s form in soft shadow. he hears your sigh before your quiet footsteps, and turns his neck to look at you. he gives you a soft smile, drying his hands on the small towel. you try not to stare; he has very pretty hands.

“hey,” he murmurs, making no move to leave the bathroom. he can tell by the way you padded over that you don’t actually need the room for anything. that, and you used it and brushed your teeth first thing after getting back. you’ve already donned your sleep clothes, too. you move forward, and he steps back, leaving room for you at the sink. the heels of your hands meet the cool ceramic of the sink as you lean against it, facing him from less than a foot away. the bathroom most definitely is not a generous size.

“hey,” you echo, voice just as soft as his. to him, you sound even more tired than usual. resigned, even. he’s trying to decide if you’ll respond decently to him asking if you’re okay. you speak again before he can decide. “spence?”

“yeah?” he wants to call you honey, but he doesn’t. but the way you say his name is begging for him to respond with equal sweetness and intimacy. or maybe honey is doubly sweet and intimate, but to him, your voice saying his nickname like that is the same as if you called him baby. he’s shy, but he wishes you’d call him that.

you look at him with sad eyes and he wishes that look would go away. i can’t get you out of my head, you want to say. “i’m tired,” is what comes out, anticlimactic and falling flat on the tile floor.

but his eyes fill with sympathy regardless and he gives a little frown on your behalf. even if you were going to say something else, the words that leave your lips are just as true. you are tired, very much so. not just from the case or the lumpy bed, but from everything, you suppose. it’s a bone deep type of exhaustion, and somehow your growing love for him is the only thing you can think about these days. it’s pressing to get out and make itself known, and now it feels heavy and oppressive.

“it’s been a long day,” spencer agrees. he knows how you feel, at least in terms of the exhaustions, and that it’s really not about just today. but he also knows that you know that, and that there’s not much to say. not right now, at least. it’s not the time for that sort of conversation, he can tell.

you swallow, suddenly nervous. you’re asking yourself why the hell you walked into this damn bathroom, put yourself so close to him without the option to actually close the distance. but you sort of just want to hug him. you want to get it off your chest, because you think it’ll make some of the exhaustion go away. though things could certainly get worse.

“i can’t get you out of my head, you know.” this time, the words slip out before you can stop them. you’re not sure if it’s the right thing to say, the right way to tell him, but you suppose the meaning is implied and that you’ve gone out and said it, finally. that makes your shoulders drop, and a relieved huff of breath leaves your lips. even if he doesn’t feel the same, at least you’ve said it.

most other days, spencer would’ve kissed you, maybe after clumsily telling you that he can’t get you out of his head either. but today, you’re sagging and tired, so he pulls you into his arms with a certain sort of ease that tells you he doesn’t mind being close to you. he likes it, even. he presses a kiss to the bare skin of your forehead, and that’s your answer. he’ll stay stuck in your head, but it will be far more bearable because he loves you back.

[godhandler]

Ex-boyfriend Gojo who shows up at your house 5 years later. He looks a bit different now. 

|Souls are laid to rest after the death of the body. As for Gojo Satoru, his soul rests with you. In other words, your terrible ex-boyfriend is having way too much fun haunting you|

|satoru gojo x reader, fluff, lil bitty angst, gojo being gojo, 1400 words, desi-coded reader|

previous series masterlist

Sometimes you wonder if you are a character trapped in a story. Ant in a glacier, you shout and kick but are ultimately powerless, swept along by a narrative you are but a puppet to. It’s nothing new, you’ve felt this way every day for the past almost 30 years; days that keep passing by while you remain where you were.

Your author could have written you a story where you’re a princess and the dashing knight falls in love with you. Or perhaps where you’re a powerful elf magician who conquers the universe. Hell, even a side character in Mob Psycho 100 gets a nicer life than you. 

It only follows that your author is bored and talentless and cruel, because why else would they torment you like this? Why else would the love of your life come back to haunt you?

“... hey, honeycheeks?” Satoru opens an eye. For the past few days since he appeared he’s taken to sleeping (or quietly hovering horizontally) on his side of the bed next to you. “Why are you still up?”

Lately it feels like everything you do is done through you, rather than by you. You have to do something, feel something, assert your freedom of action. Make you feel like a person again. 

You scream for a full 20 seconds before Satoru, aghast, claps a hand (that passes right through you) to your mouth, worried that the neighbours will start banging on the wall, a stray ‘shut the fuck up!’ wafting in through the window. You haven’t slept well since he got here, except, you know, when you passed out. If your current mental state is anything to go, he needs to get you to bed before you lose it completely. 

“No– get off– I have to–are you real, Satoru? Are you? Am I?” 

Satoru’s never been able to hide his thoughts from you, so you can see clear on his face the fear and worry about you. A tinge of pity too. You’re behaving so erratically, so unlike the calm rational lady he remembers you as, one who took all of life’s curveballs in stride. Has he hurt you that much? What does it say about the kind of person Satoru is if his reappearance hurts you more than his disappearance? 

The ghostly form is warm, warm as the sun’s heat on a winter day, and he opens his arms to call you to its warmest core– his heart. You lie back down, pulled into the bedsheets and you shock yourself when you reflexively pull the blankets over both your heads. Like you used to. Like you haven’t forgotten.

Satoru glows too. Gentle light of fireflies and starlight. All humans do, you remember reading in your physics textbook: all heat-emitting bodies emit light energy as well. Satoru is all soul and no body to bar the glow– he lights up your little cave under the blankets. 

“I’m real, my love.” 

Why does it wrap thorns around your insides? Why do the tears burn down your neck, refusing to obey your composure? Why are you losing your grip on everything?

“I’ve always imagined that you’d come back.” Your whispers slip out before you can help it. “You’d stand on the doorstep with a huge bouquet of red roses and chocolate-covered-strawberries. I’ll open the door, and be so shocked! I’d say, “So you think you can just buy me flowers and I’d forgive you?” and you’d get on your knees and beg me to take you back, or at least let you inside the house. Our house. Then I’d say, “Fine, but you have to leave after tea!” And you don’t. You just never leave. Ha ha–” your suddenly realise what you’re saying, though not enough to regret it. “– I know, it’s cliche, don’t tease me… But I knew you, Satoru. I knew it’d never happen; I knew that you were done with me for good.”

And after a full year, Satoru Gojo’s blueflame eyes wet again with the unbearable weight of the past. 

“But if I knew that you’d come back like this–” you bury your head into Satoru’s unruly cloud of hair. His fingers grasp you tight into his embrace, shoulders heave with every sob that wrecks through his body. He can’t look you in the eye. How could he? He’s done so much wrong, so much that cannot be fixed, left so much unfinished. “–I’d have wanted you to stay away.”

“You gave me some of my best memories.” He weeps. Ghost tears fall that do not wet your bosom. “Some of my best days in life. I– I came back– I couldn’t–” 

He chokes and waits for the uncontrollable hiccups to die down, a tic of his whenever he cries too hard. The first time it happened was when you pushed him down a slide he was a bit scared of, and he kept hiccuping and heaving until his distraught nanny took him to his pediatric doctor. He was 2 then. He would’ve been 29 now. 

His voice steadies enough to talk, chest still shaking as he cries. He can’t help it. He’s given up trying to. “I don’t know much, but this much I can figure out. I’m done for, I’ve passed away. I’m sorry, my love, I tried not to, but I died. I’m sorry. It was a fight and I couldn’t win this time. Don’t worry, it’s over now, my students defeated the terrorist, everyone’s safe, you’re safe, love. Everything will go back to how it was–”

“–it won’t,” you cry. “Not without you.”

“There’s no point mourning the dead, I was loved enough in my life. I mean,” he finally has the courage to look at you, allowing a watery smile. There’s tears even in his teeth. “I got to be loved by you. What more can I ask? And that’s what I figured out, I think. Tell me, love, what do you see when you look at me? What am I wearing?”

“Huh? You look just like the day you left. 5 years ago.” 

“Am I jacked like Musclemon?”

You can’t help but laugh. “No, silly, you look exactly like the day you left. Tall lean muscles, sure, but I won’t call you Musclemon. The chocolate bear hoodie you were wearing, grey sweatpants, the blindfold I gave you.” 

The last one was specially hand-made by you. You had to call in a favour from your blacksmithing friends to create a light-weight lead composite shield, which you then tailored foam and padding to create the most opaque blindfold possible. To help him sleep better at night.   

“That’s now how others see me.”

“Others can see you? Who's ‘others’?”

“No, no, not everyone. Just some people I couldn’t say goodbye to. Get closure properly, you know. As far as I can tell, it’s Suguru, Shoko, the children. They all saw me as how they remembered me.” He said. He’s always loved to explain, despite the fact that he’s crying right now. “I don’t know if this happens to everyone or just me, but at the time of death, your soul goes to wherever they find comfort. Mine was split into a few separate pieces, but those parts are done. I talked enough to everyone, bothered them till they told me to go, ha-ha… Suguru’s waiting for me to leave with him.”

“Suguru’s soul?”

“Yes.”

“Leave where? When?”

“I don’t mind, I’ll go wherever he takes me, I trust him. And I’ll go when you tell me to. When you’re done with me.” He whispers. Secrets beyond the grave that he entrusts with you. “But if you keep me with you, if you don’t tell me to leave, I never will. Not this time.”

You must be imagining it, but Satoru seems to get heavier, even though all he is is a ball of cloud. Almost like he was actually lying tangled with you. Must be your imagination. 

Clearly, neither of you are doing very well, or at least well enough to trust your senses. Come tomorrow morning, the barriers will come up again, the awkwardness of proper social conduct seeping through with the sunlight, childish words will go unsaid. 

“I loved you, Satoru. I love you.” It’s the truth, no point in hiding it. It’s destiny beyond himself that his soul came to you. “But more than that I miss you.”

Maybe if you prayed very, very hard, you could convince your author to write you a better story. 

a/n: reader also sees gojo with the engagement band on his finger she just can't get herself to say it out loud

gojo sees himself as nothing eslse but two glowing blue eyes

geto saw gojo as the 17 year old student he left him as. just to clarify, gojo's soul was "split" or in better words, different versions of his souls talked to his loved ones after his death and those versions have found peace and moved on. since geto is the only one dead in that line-up, in a way, he's waited for a year for him to die and join him. geto was prepared to wait as long as he needed to (he hoped that it would be long). reader's version is the only one that's left unresolved. do you think gojo wants to be resolved/freed?

[zilonking]

Here's the next page finally, had different ways of approaching this part, but this seemed the best. Slowly getting back to working on this and The Night Before Dawn. Maybe hopefully finish the first chapters of both art stories soon.

Start: https://www.tumblr.com/zilonking/763175802771750912/heres-the-cover-for-chapter-1-been-waiting-to?source=share

Next:

Previous:

https://www.tumblr.com/zilonking/768700780474728448/finally-got-this-finished-for-the-2nd-page-first?source=share

“They descend upon the landing zone, as the leg of the airship extends before it touches the ground. Then Lilith begins to shut the airship down, as it landed. Jean-Luc hastily exits the airship and scouts around for any dangers”.

“Everyone else walks down the ramp that extends from the airship. Everyone then stretches after the long trip from the Boiling Isles to the titan they arrived on. In preparation to what Lillith has brought them to the titan for” ...

Vee: “Thank titan, it feels good to finally get out and stretch”.

Gus: “Same here, felt like ages since we left”.

King: “Me three, why did two whole days feel like an eternity”?

Cae/Collector: “My legs felt like they were about to sleep”.

Gus: “Well at least we're here now, so where to now Lilith”?

Lilith: “There was an entryway through the bushes that took me to the ruins here”.

Lilith: “Which should be” ...

“Lilith looks around until she notices a faint shimmer of light through the bushes”

Lilith: “Ah here, well if you all are ready let us continue on”.

“Everyone begins to follow Lilith, Jean-Luc makes a sudden rush and climbs upon a tree, scouting around. King and Cae then move through and spot a bug suddenly coming from the ground”.

Vee: “Lilith you sure the path you went through is safe? Since it's everyone's first time on this titan besides you”?

Lilith: “It should be relatively safe, and the wild demons around here do not seem to mind us”.

Gus: “You sure? Cause it looks really open around here”.

Lilith: “I went through here twice on my way and back and had no trouble with any demons around”.

Lilith: “So, we should all be fine”.

Hooty: “Unless you’re counting the turtle snakes that hang in the trees”.

Vee: “Yeah…, that’s really helpful to know Hooty”.

Lilith: “Don’t worry about them, they are rather curious”.

Gus: “Well let's keep going then”.

“Everyone continues through, and as they get closer to the edge of the valley, they all climb upon a fallen tree. They walk upon it and look to see the wild demons that roam around”.

Cae/Collector: “Woah…, there’s so many things here”.

King: “Yeah, talk about a view on arrival”.

Lilith: “I was in awe as well, so much to know and see here, that I wish I had more time planned for”.

Gus: “Even if we're not here for that long it's at least nice to do things on another titan”.

Vee: “Especially that thing at the end of the tree”.

“They all stop as they see a demon resting at the end of the tree. Unsure of how to go around it”

Lilith: “Huh… there wasn’t one here before” ...

Gus: “Can we just fly around it”.

Vee: “We just got here, wouldn’t be a good idea. Was there a demon on this tree you walked on Lilith”?

Lilith: “No, there wasn’t, and it seems rather large, best not to wake it rudely”.

Cae/Collector: “Can’t we just ask it to move”.

King: “Not sure if it would understand and would probably go to sleep annoyed if we did”.

Hooty: “Rude awakenings are always helpful”.

King: “Yeah, unless you want that thing to try and eat you”.

Gus: “So what then”?

“They all begin to argue about what to do until sounds of groaning are heard from the demon. They all then become silent as it wakes up and yawns. The demon shakes its head and then turns to look at them”.

“It then looks the opposite way and begins to move off the fallen tree, and walks away”

Vee: “Or… that”?

Lilith: “Well it's out of the way now let's keep moving then”.

“Gus whispers to Vee”

Gus: “I think us arguing probably would wake it up”.

Vee: “Probably”.

“As they walk off the fallen tree they see an open way through the tree. Leading to an open area”.

Lilith: “Through here, we’ll be close to it soon”.

“They all walk through the pathway through the trees. Encountering more demons along the way as they walk through the forest. To where the ruins lie as Lilith leads them towards” ...

[ihfmseatsoch]

I love your post about Jimmy's reaction to y/n coming out as trans! ^^

Do you think you could do one where Jimmy catches ftm y/n humping a pillow? maybe they can be dating or something too?

hellooo sorry for the delay on this !! ive been sick with the literal plague or something -_-

genre: smut

word count: 1.3k

warnings/content: reader is pre op but on testosterone, tdick mention, degradation, humiliation, dry humping, mutual masturbation, voyeur jimmy, edging, jim cums on your face

—

Strenuous, is one way to describe working on the Tulpar.

Sometimes, you'd have to completely redo a routine inventory check because you, or someone else miscounted the supplies. Not to mention how pipes are always bursting, the engine overheats more often, gauges don't provide the correct information; common malfunctions due to the ships old age are the bane of your existence these days.

With all the stress piling up, it was only natural for you to crave relief, to rid your body of all its built up tension. Unfortunately, your boyfriend was too preoccupied with his own job to fuck you. You also didn't want to ask, for fear of being annoying, even though Jimmy would never pass up an opportunity like that.

Still, you decided to leave him unburdened.

You rut against the pillow between your thighs, tdick grinding into the plush material, sending hot jolts of ecstasy through your core. Your juices have already soaked into the fabric, leaving a visible damp spot under you. It was pathetic of you to neglect your duties so you could hump your pillow like a dog, but you simply couldn't focus on doing anything else. That's not good for your work ethic at all.

You knew everyone was too busy to come looking for you, but it still made you anxious to know that anyone could walk in whenever they pleased and witness you in this position. Of all places, it made the most sense to install locks on the doors to the sleeping quarters, but the Pony Express higher-ups aren't too bright, you're noticing.

Regardless of the risk, you couldn't find in in yourself to care enough to stop. You've already begun, and if you stopped now, you'd go the rest of the day just as hot and bothered as before. It only makes sense to finish the job.

Soon, you're not even worried about the lack of security in your tiny room, as you near your much needed release, your whines becoming harder to conceal under your palm. Your legs are trembling, the taut coil inside you ready to snap at any second, you just need a little more–

The mechanical door, your only shield from prying eyes, opens before you can react, or even think about attempting to cover yourself.

"Hey, Daisuke wanted to as–"

Your boyfriend freezes, now as stiff as you are, blinking a couple times in bewilderment at the sight of you; body glistening from a thin coat of sweat, cheeks flushed red, pillow rubbing against your throbbing dick, eyes wide in fear and embarrassment. You were a little relieved that it was just him, but in the back of your mind, you knew he'd give you hell for this. He'll definitely use it against you in the future.

"Jesus, fuck–" Jimmy closes the door behind him swiftly, so no one else can barge in and lay their eyes on you. His arms are crossed as he approaches you, looking down on your shaking form with a look of total condescension, which makes you shrink into yourself with shame even further. You stammer, but you can't seem to put together an articulate sentence.

"This is what you were doin'?" He scoffs, "Instead of helping out 'round this piece of junk, you're in here being a whore?" He sounded annoyed, even angry with you, although it was probably a guise, just to make you feel even more humiliated.

"I– um– I'm sorry, I'll–" You start to inch your way off the pillow, keeping your head down in shame, before he grabs the hair on the back of your head without warning, forcefully yanking down on it to turn your neck upwards. "Didn't tell you to stop, did I?" Jimmy's tone turns low and salacious, "Nah, you're not gonna stop 'til I want you to."

"Jim..."

"Jim what?" He mocks the whine in your voice, "You got yourself into this, and now you're gonna rub that little dick of yours 'til you cum all over the same pillow you've gotta sleep on tonight."

Swallowing down your shame, and the last of your dignity, you tentatively begin to rock your hips back and forth once again, still just as sensitive as before. He's watching you like a hawk, making you feel somewhat self-conscious, like he's judging you. "There you go. Not so hard for you to be a slut, is it? I think it's the easiest thing in the world for you."

Jimmy's degradation only fuels you on, soft whimpers leaving your throat no matter how hard you try and hold them back. "You're damn lucky I was the one who walked in here, and not someone else. What would they think of you?" He unzips his coveralls down to his hips, the semi-hard outline of his dick already visible through his underwear. Jimmy strokes his growing bulge as he watches you dry hump your pillow, continuing to taunt you. "You aren't that quiet, y'know. They probably heard you moaning like a bitch by now. I think you might've wanted them to."

You frantically shake your head. Anyone else discovering you in this state sounded like an absolute nightmare. "N-Nooo..." Your voice wavers.

"Hm. I find it hard to believe that." Jimmy takes his cock, now fully rigid and erect, out of his boxers, pumping himself right in front of your face. "You don't get to be a whore for anyone but me, you know that? Must be hard, not being able to take whatever cock is offered to you."

Your dick tingles, pulsating with arousal at his words, his borderline insults. You feel yourself getting close to your peak again already, so close to the orgasm that was ruined when Jimmy barged in. Your hips stutter, unbearable pressure quickly building inside your core. "J–Jimmy, m' gonna–" you gasp, your sentence trembling just as much as your body.

"Not yet. Not 'til I say you can." Jimmy grunts, stroking himself vigorously, gripping his shaft in a way that makes you afraid he may tear the skin clean off. "Jim, plea–" "Shut up." He cuts off your complaints. "You'll cum when I'm good and fuckin' ready."

It takes an excruciatingly long time for Jimmy to be 'good and fuckin ready', your pillow is damper than ever with your slick, which also coats your inner thighs and ass. You're soaked, aching more painfully than you've ever felt before. Tears prick your eyes from sheer overstimulation as you cry, "Please, Jimmy, it hurts..."

His cock twitches when you snivel below him.

"All you do is whine," he grits, "Learn how to be patient for once. You're too spoiled."

It's not until his heavy balls tighten, and his hand begins pumping with a rapid ferocity, even moreso than before, signalling how close he is to his own release, does he put an end to your torture.

"Fuuuck– shit, yeah– go ahead and cum. Cum all over yourself right in front of me, you little fuckin'– nghh– bitch–"

The most intense orgasm of your life washes over you at his command. It takes every ounce of strength you have left not to scream, and you swear your vision goes white, your body overwhelmed by every little sensation. You're barely able to come back to your senses before you hear a low, animalistic sound rise from his throat, and feel hot ropes of his cum spurt all over your face, some getting in your hair. You grimace, one eye squeezed shut so the bit of fluid dripping dangerously close to it doesn't blind you.

Jimmy tucks himself back into his pants, and with the dumbest, most self-satisfied expression plastered on his face, he gives you a couple pats on your cheek. "Clean yourself up. Daisuke needs you for somethin'."

And with that, he promptly leaves the room, and you, to take care of yourself.

—

[onechicagolife]

ALWAYS | JAY HALSTEAD

Detective Jay Halstead is a senior member of the Intelligence Unit, where he is partnered with Detective Hailey Upton after his former partner and girlfriend transferred to the FBI and moved to New York. Still adjusting to the loss of his former flame, all the while dealing with emotional scars from his time in the Rangers, his world is once again turned upside down when a case brings up an odd connection to a woman from his past. want to be tagged? link in bio <3

Epilogue

Mia lay on her childhood bed, restless and tangled in sheets that smelled faintly of the lavender laundry detergent her mother always used. The room is bathed in shadows, the soft glow of a streetlamp outside casting faint patterns on the walls. It feels strange being in her old room, but there is some comfort in the familiarity of it. Her mind races, replaying fragments of the last few days, but when she closes her eyes, it settles on one image: the look in Daniel Reid’s eyes as he strangled her. Her mind plays it over and over again, unwilling to let her rest.

Mia huffs and rolls onto her back, pressing a palm to her chest as if that could calm her racing heart. She takes a slow breath, but her lungs still feel too tight, and she can practically feel the memories crawling under her skin. It has been this way since the hospital: long, sleepless nights filled with images she can’t escape.

Reaching for the phone on her nightstand, her thumb hovers over her contacts. She hesitates, debating whether she has the energy to speak. Finally, she taps the screen.

It rings twice before a groggy voice answers, "Halstead.” Jay rubs the sleep from his eyes, confusion stirring when no one responds. He pulls the phone away to check the caller ID. His breath hitches before he brings it back to his ear, “Mia?”

Mia’s eye fall shut in relief at the sound of his voice. “Hey,” she finally says, voice just above a whisper. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have woken you up. Go back to sleep.”

He settles back against the pillow, his voice losing some of its foggy edge. “No, it’s okay. What’s up?”

She swallows, her throat tight, “I just… can’t sleep. I keep thinking about…” Her voice trails off, and the silence speaks for her.

Pausing, Jay tries to stop his own memories from surfacing and clears his throat. “I’m here,” he prods gently. “Talk to me.”

“It’s like,” Mia exhales shakily, pressing the heel of her palm against her closed eyes, “I’m back in that cabin.” Her voice is raw, pained as she nearly breaks. “I close my eyes, and I see him. I see what he did… to Lindsey, to Kyla… Because of me.”

A heavy sigh escapes his lips. “Mia,” Jay begins, his tone gentle but insistent, “what you went through... it’s unimaginable. But none of it was your fault. I know that doesn’t mean much right now, but I need you to hear me. It wasn’t your fault.”

She tightens her grip on the phone and closes her eyes to stop the tears. The conviction in his voice softens the sharp edges of her fear, if only by a fraction. “I know,” she says quietly, letting the words linger. A part of her does know—logically—but it doesn’t stop the guilt from gnawing at her.

The silence between them is heavy yet reassuring, his quiet presence helping in a way she can’t really explain. Like it always used to. After a few moments, Jay breaks it, his tone lighter, “Hey, remember that time we pranked Will into thinking that ER got canceled?”

Mia lets out an unexpected snort as the memory washes over her. “We? I was just an innocent bystander,” she giggles. “God, he was so mad at you.”

“Well, yeah, because I made him cry in front of a girl,” Jay chuckles, “even if it was just you. Still embarrassing.”

She smiles, a warmth seeping into her chest as they reminisce over the many times she’d been caught in the middle of the Halstead brothers’ antics. The small, welcome distraction makes the air feel a little less stifling. Eventually the laughter fades, replaced by a hesitant curiosity. “Jay,” she murmurs, “do you ever think about what would’ve happened if you never enlisted?”

He goes quiet for several long seconds, and she imagines him rubbing a hand over his face, trying to gather the right words. “I don’t regret joining the military,” he finally says, voice low. “But yeah, I do. I think about how I hurt you. About what you said that day—that I was trying to fix something broken in me. You were right.”

Mia shuts her eyes, a twinge of shame tugging at her heart. “I was so angry,” she admits. “When I found out I was pregnant, I—I was terrified. But I knew in my bones that no matter how scared I was, you’d be the best father to our daughter.”

A strangled breath escapes past his lips, tears burning at the corners of his eyes. “Daughter?” he echoes, his voice cracking.

“I’m not sure,” she clarifies softly, blinking back her own tears, “I just always pictured her as a girl.”

He nods to himself, a small, sad smile pulling at his lips for a second at the image it conjures. “I didn’t know,” he manages, choking back the emotion that threatens to drown him. “I didn’t know about the baby or realize how much I was hurting you. I got so wrapped up in what I thought I needed—what I owed myself—that I never stopped to think about what you needed. And if I had known about her…”

"Jay, I know,” she furrows her brows, trying to convey her understanding with the softness of her tone.

He runs a hand down his face, his voice thick with regret. “I’m so sorry. For all of it. If I could go back and do things differently, I would. I meant what I said. I chose wrong.”

Mia sniffles, tears dripping onto the soft, faded pillow beneath her head. The quiet over the line stretches, brimming with what she can’t bring herself to say yet.

I forgive you.

I want you.

I love you.

“Jay,” she whispers instead.

He swallows audibly, his next words raw. “Honestly, I think a part of my heart has always been yours. No matter what’s happened or how much time has passed. I think about that day at the airport all the time—about the promise I made. And I should’ve fought for you. With everything I had, I should’ve fought for you.”

She inhales unevenly, trying to piece her composure back together. Finally, she breathes again, “I should’ve fought, too.”

The words hang in the air, leaving them both lost in what could’ve been. When Jay speaks again, his tone is carefully measured, “It’s late. You should try to get some sleep.”

She nods even though he can’t see her. “Thank you,” she mumbles. “For always answering.”

He pauses a moment, and she can hear the smile in his voice. “Get some rest, okay?”

“Goodnight, Jay,” she says softly.

“Goodnight.”

As Mia hangs up, the shadows in the room seem less daunting, the quiet less suffocating. Rolling onto her side, she closes her eyes, the ghost of Jay’s voice lingering in her mind. For the first time in weeks, she feels like maybe, just maybe, she can find her way back to herself through the darkness.

Mia hesitates outside the door, her heart thudding so loudly that each beat seems to echo in her ears. She swallows hard, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear with trembling fingers as she fights the overwhelming urge to just leave a note and run. She hasn’t seen or spoken to Austin since the hospital, having asked for some time to herself. Truthfully, she hasn’t known what to say to him—she still doesn’t. She wishes she could keep delaying the inevitable, but she knows that wouldn’t be fair—to him or to herself.

Summoning her courage, she raises her fist and knocks. Within seconds, the door swings open. Austin’s face brightens with a warm smile, and she feels a pang of guilt twist in her stomach. “Hi,” he says lightly, stepping aside. “Come on in.”

Mia manages a small nod and crosses the threshold into the hotel suite. She folds her arms tightly over her chest and moves near the window, as though distance alone can shield her from what she’s here to do. Behind her, she hears the door click shut. His footsteps pad toward the minibar, and his voice drifts across the room—something about contractors, remodels, timelines. She barely registers the words, her own thoughts a frantic hum in her mind. You can do this.

“…He thinks they can have everything done in a few months,” Austin explains. “I know you’ve been wanting to redo the kitchen anyway.”

She finally hears him and closes her eyes, inhaling a steadying breath. “I’m not going back to that house,” Mia bites out harsher than she intended, cutting through his words. How can he think they could just go back to normal—like the last few months never happened when it takes everything in her to forget, just for a moment?

He pauses, clearly taken aback. “Okay,” he responds slowly, tone laced with caution. “That’s fine. I can have the realtor give us some insight on what updates will sell best, and then maybe we can—”

“Austin.” Her voice is firmer this time, and she turns to face him, pulling a small object from her pocket. She stares at it silently, rolling it between her fingers as she takes a few steps forward. She places her engagement ring on the coffee table, the metallic clink jarringly loud in the quiet room.

His features shift, his tentative smile fading completely. He sets down the glass he’s holding, the faintest tremor visible in his hand. “What are you doing?” Austin asks, tone almost disbelieving.

She swallows against the knot in her throat. “I meant what I said before,” she says quietly. “This isn’t working anymore.”

His eyes flick from her face to the ring, then back. “Look, I know you’ve been through a lot,” he offers quickly, stepping closer. “If you need time, if you need space, that’s fine. I’ll give you whatever you need.”

She shakes her head, tongue poking out to wet her lips, “It’s not about that.”

“Then what is it about?” his voice rises slightly, something flickering in his eyes. “Is it about Jay?”

Her stomach clenches, but she tries to keep her composure. “Austin—” she begins.

His frustrated voice cuts her off, “Did something happen I don’t know about?” He runs a hand through his hair, eyes flaring with a mixture of hurt and anger. “Just tell me.”

Mia takes a deep breath, knowing that she can’t dodge the truth any longer. “I slept with him,” she says, her voice uncertain as she waits for a reaction.

The room is silent, the color draining from his face. “What?” Austin visibly recoils, a sharp edge to his tone. “When?”

“When you were in Portland,” she admits as she forces herself to meet his eyes. “Before… everything.”

His jaw tightens, and he takes a step back, as if the distance might lessen the blow. “So, what? That’s why you wanted to take a break? So you could have sex with your ex-boyfriend and not feel guilty about it?”

“No! No, that’s not—” Mia protests, but he interrupts her.

“Don’t,” he snaps, raising a hand to cut her off. “You told me there was nothing going on, Mia. And like an idiot, I believed you.”

She flinches slightly. She feels guilty for hurting him but at the same time, she doesn’t regret it. “I know it sounds cliché,” she tries to find the right words to explain, “but it just… happened. You deserve the truth. And, yes, Jay coming back into my life played a part in me wanting a break, but it’s not the only reason.”

“Then what is the reason?” he demands, exasperation bleeding into his tone. When she doesn’t respond, his anger wavers, replaced by a desperate plea. “Mia, I love you. You've been through a lot, so if you need me to give you some grace right now, I will. I’ll do whatever it takes—therapy, time apart, I don’t care. If forgiving you for this means I get to keep you, I’ll do it.” He swallows hard, “Just tell me what I have to do.”

Her eyes fill with tears, but she knows she is doing the right thing. “There’s nothing you can do.”

Austin stares at her, heartbreak etched into every line of his face. “Are you still in love with him?” he asks in a voice that trembles under the weight of the realization that he already knows the answer.

Her throat tightens, and she is unable to meet his eyes as her own catch on the diamond reflecting under the light. “You’re a good man, Austin,” Mia avoids the question, voice quiet yet somehow deafening in the silence. “You deserve someone who can be all in, who can truly love you the way you deserve. I wanted to be that person for you—I tried to be that person. But… I’m not.”

He follows her gaze to the ring before searching her face for something—a sign, a glimmer of hope—but finds nothing. “I’m so sorry,” she adds unsteadily. “I never meant to hurt you.”

His shoulders sag, the fight leaving his body. Austin exhales, the sound hollow and resigned. “Goodbye, Mia,” he finally says softly, a pained finality to his tone.

She feels a tear slip down her cheek, and she quickly swipes it away. “Goodbye,” she whispers.

Mia steps past him, the door looming ahead like a final threshold. The hallway is cold and silent as she emerges, the door closing behind her with a heavy thud. Guilt tangles with a strange sense of relief, leaving her legs unsteady. There’s an ache inside her chest where her future with Austin used to be, but she also senses something else blossoming: the faintest spark of freedom. Because that future was never real. It was an escape. For the first time in a long time, she feels like she can finally breathe.

O’Hare International was a whirlwind of hurried footsteps, rolling suitcases, and muffled announcements echoing from overhead speakers. Mia stood near the security checkpoint, her fingers twisting with each other nervously. She swallowed against the tightness in her throat, feeling the sting of unshed tears. Her stomach churned, her heart aching in ways she couldn’t quite describe. It felt familiar, though—something she had only ever experienced once before. When she was thirteen and realized that her father wasn’t coming home.

A few yards away, Jay stood beside his older brother, his duffel slung over his shoulder and his new uniform freshly pressed. His hair was buzzed shorter than she was used to, and it made him look older, more serious. As if that should somehow make him more prepared to be sent off to his possible death. But his eyes—those deep, familiar eyes she’d fallen in love with before she even realized—still held the same softness, even as they searched her face with a mix of guilt and longing.

Will squeezed his shoulder in farewell when he noticed Mia and shot her a small, reassuring smile, before giving them some space.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Jay mumbled as he stepped closer. His voice was careful, like he was afraid one wrong word might send her running.

Mia crossed her arms over her chest defensively, fighting a shiver that had nothing to do with the cool blasts of airport air conditioning. “Neither did I,” she answered, her tone edged with bitterness and hurt. It had only been a week since she found out about his enlistment—but the short time without him already felt like a lifetime.

His posture stiffened, shame written clearly across his face, “Mia—”

“You lied to me,” she cut him off harshly, her voice wavering despite the determined anger on her face. “For weeks. You let me plan our future—a future you had no intention of sharing.” She couldn’t stop the tears that began to gather in her eyes and blinked furiously to keep them at bay.

“I know,” he swallowed hard, every word heavy with regret. “I messed up. I thought maybe you’d try to talk me out of it, and I was… I was scared of losing you.” His voice cracked, and that small vulnerability only made her heart clench harder.

She exhaled a shaky breath. “Of course I would have tried to talk you out of it!” her words came out sharp, but beneath the anger was an overwhelming sadness. “You don’t just get to decide something this huge without telling me. We were supposed to do things together. You shut me out instead.”

Jay bowed his head under the weight of her words. “I know,” he repeated quietly. “And now I’m losing you anyway.”

He lifted his gaze to hers, and in that single look, she saw the regret, the longing, the fear. Another announcement came over the speakers, but the words drifted into the background. All she could focus on was Jay—the slight quiver in his breath, the desperate set of his jaw. Her eyes softened slightly, tears stinging as she blinked them back.

Suddenly, he dropped his duffel and closed the distance between them, cupping her face in his hands with surprising gentleness. Mia stiffened at first, but his thumbs brushed away the tears that she fought so hard against, and her anger splintered into grief.

“I can’t,” he started, voice breaking, “I can’t do this if you’re not with me. Please.”

Everything around them momentarily faded, and there was only Jay’s earnest gaze and the warmth of his hands on her skin. She wanted to fight it—wanted to hold onto the anger because it was easier than facing the heartbreak—but she couldn’t. She inhaled a shaky breath and wrapped her arms around his waist, clinging to him desperately as if it would somehow keep him from leaving her.

“I forgive you,” she whispered against his chest, her tears dampening the fabric of his uniform. “I hate that you’re doing this, but I forgive you. We’ll… figure it out.”

Jay lowered his head, pressing a tender kiss to the top of her hair. His breath stuttered, and she realized he was fighting back tears of his own. “I love you so damn much,” he managed, voice thick with emotion.

Her hold tightened. “I love you too,” she mumbled.

Overhead, the final boarding call for his flight crackled through. She felt that sting of reality slice through her chest, an ache that warned her time was almost up. She looked up at him, tears shimmering in her eyes as she framed his face with both hands. “Will you come back to me?” Mia asked, the words trembling on her lips, fragile but full of hope.

“Always,” he answered without the slightest pause, his gaze steady and resolute, as if his promise alone could protect them both from whatever lies ahead. Then Jay leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss that tasted of both a goodbye and a vow.

Jay sits on the edge of his couch, the remote resting idly in his hand as the Blackhawks highlights replay for the third time. The volume is low, the commentator’s voices blending into a murmur that only emphasizes the otherwise quiet apartment. His phone lies face down on the coffee table, s if hiding it might banish the temptation to call her—or at least stop him from staring at the screen, willing it to light up. For the past week, Mia has called every single night when she can’t manage to silence the memories that haunt her. They’ve talked about everything and nothing, staying on the line for as long as it takes for her breathing to even out.

He glances at his watch. 12:00 AM. The city seems to have wound down—as much as Chicago can—but he’s still wide awake, leg bouncing restlessly. The last time he sat like this, unable to stop worrying about her, she had been handing herself over to a serial killer. The thought still makes his stomach twist. Maybe she was finally able to fall asleep early, which he knows she desperately needs. Maybe she doesn’t need him tonight, which hurts and reassures him at the same time.

A sudden knock at the door jolts Jay to his feet, heart thumping against his ribs as he approaches the door cautiously to peer through the peephole. He can’t fight the smile from tugging at his lips as he unlocks and pulls open the door, and everything slows.

Mia stands under the dim hallway light, cheeks pink from the cool night air and dark hair a windblown mess. Her green eyes shine with a mixture of vulnerability and determination, and that look alone sends a tremor through his chest. He hadn’t realized just how badly he needed to see her until this very second, having thought about it every day since the hospital.

“Mia,” he breathes, relief and surprise tangling in his voice.

“Hi,” she replies softly, offering a small, unsure smile. He steps back, wordlessly inviting her inside. “I wasn’t sure if you’d still be awake,” she says, pausing near the couch. Her gaze flicks toward the TV, still playing the sports channel.

Jay shuts the door, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was… waiting for your call,” he confesses with a quiet laugh and sheepish shrug.

She bites her lip, fighting back a smile. “I was lying in bed, staring at my phone,” she trails off and turns to face him, her soft expression catching the light, “but I needed to see you.”

His pulse quickens at her words. He takes a step closer, searching her face trying to gauge where this conversation will lead. Arching a brow, his mouth quirks slightly, “Want to sit down?”

She nods, rounding the couch and settling onto the cushion. He follows suit, leaving a small space between them. Mia shifts to face him, drawing in a shaky breath before tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m just,” her shoulders deflate, her weariness palpable, “so tired.”

He doesn’t move, afraid to shatter the moment. But he has to ask, and he clears his throat gently, “Of what?”

Mia inhales through her nose and lifts her head, glancing around the apartment as she tries to find the right words. Her eyes trail up to the ceiling, and she rubs her lips together before meeting his gaze. “For the last week,” she continues, voice trembling, “you’ve been the only thing keeping me grounded. For the last few weeks, actually. Even when I…was with someone else, when everything around me was crashing down, the only person I wanted was you.”

His chest constricts from the weight of her confession. He aches to reach out, to hold her, but he resists the urge. A wave of familiarity crashes over him, remembering that night in the safehouse when everything between them shifted. Back to the way it used to be.

“You saved me,” her voice catches as the backs of her eyes sting, but she blinks back the tears and lets out a watery laugh. “Not just from… You saved me from myself. That day you walked into my office. And it terrified me.”

“Mia,” he starts but cuts himself off when she lifts a hand, nodding for her to continue.

“I’ve been scared, Jay,” she confesses, leaning forward. “Scared of letting you in again because you broke my heart. Twice.” Her voice wavers, and she notices the flash of regret in his eyes. She pushes on, though her throat feels tight. “And I let you, because I wanted so badly to be with you. But you weren’t ready, and I realize that now.”

Her voice cracks and Jay can’t help himself anymore. He shuffles closer, reaching out to grab one of her hands in his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I’m not the same person I was ten years ago,” he promises.

Lips curving into a sad but hopeful smile, she nods and squeezes his hand back. “Yeah, I’m starting to realize that.” Mia glances down at their entwined hands, eyes focusing on his thumb as it traces over her knuckles. After a few moments, she lifts her chin and inhales deeply, “I don’t want to be scared anymore.”

His throat constricts, heart beating rapidly against his chest, “What are you saying?”

She bites her lower lip, searching his eyes. “I’m saying that I’m in love with you,” she admits, lifting a weight off her shoulders that she has felt for over a decade. “And I don’t care if that means risking getting hurt again, because it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”

It’s all he can do not to pull her into his arms right then. In one fluid motion, Jay closes the space between them, gently cupping her face in his hands. His fingertips brush against the smooth skin of her cheek, swiping away a strand of hair. “Mia,” he says, voice a desperate plea, “I’ve loved you since I was sixteen. Probably earlier. That never stopped, no matter how many mistakes I made, no matter what I tried to tell myself. And I promise you, I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure I never hurt you again. Not if I can help it.”

A tear slips down her cheek, and she lets out a trembling laugh. “I believe you,” she whispers, her fingers clutching his shirt as though he might disappear again if she lets go.

“Do you?” he asks, voice laced with uncertainty and hope.

“I do,” she repeats, a light shining in her eyes he hasn’t seen in what feels like a lifetime.

He leans in slowly, touching his lips to hers in a featherlight kiss, almost like a question. Mia answers by pressing closer, her breath hitching as she finally gives in. The intensity builds, every unspoken apology and promise as he licks across the seam of her lips. Her free hand curls into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer still, as if she can anchor herself in this moment. She parts her mouth, letting him deepen the kiss and sighing into his embrace.

When they finally pull apart, Jay rests his forehead against hers. A hand threads through her hair, brushing it back over her shoulder before resting firmly against her neck. “I still can’t believe you came back to me,” he whispers in awe.

Her eyes shine with tears, and she doesn’t even try to fight the grin taking over her face. “Always,” she murmurs, echoing the promise he once made and renewing it all at once.

A relieved laugh escapes him, and Jay presses a lingering kiss to the crown of her hair. “Good,” he breathes against her skin, “because I’m not letting you go this time. Not for anything.”

Mia nods, hand coming to land atop his still cradling her face, her touch warm and reassuring. “Neither am I,” she promises.

They stay like that—wrapped in each other’s arms under the soft glow of the table lamp—letting the echoes of past fears and regrets slip away. Instead, a quiet sense of hope blooms between them. It is overwhelming but after how long it took them to find their way back to each other, there’s a lightness to it. That after everything they’ve been through, everything they’ve fought for, this would finally be it. That whatever happens next, they could face.

Together.

Always.

Forever.

prev . . .

well... thank you all so much for coming on this journey with me!! i've been writing for years but original characters was something new and i'm glad you all seemed to love mia as much as i do 🥹

it's bittersweet but i'm mayyyybe close to stringing together an actual plot for a sequel? 

stay tuned 😘

[changbinsboobs]

MTL Skz's bodycount?

Highest/currently active:

I.N - for him im seeing seeing straight up casanova vibes. He just likes the thrill, he likes quickies, he likes ons, he likes charming someone and he does thrive on that energy. Im seeing him being very much into that kind of life right now and being very sexually active with lots of people.

Changbin - for him im seeing he gets infatuated very easily, but is not that serious (also from readings I've done on him on my own i see him constantly in and out of relationships so makes sense). Taking Koreas wild dating culture into consideration and that going on 3 dates means ur an official couple and what not im seeing him having had LOTS of girlfriends, and of course sleeping with them as well, so... would not say a fuck boy, but he has definitely stuck it in a lot of 👌🏻....why does it have to be my bias thats such a turnoff😭😭😭 anyways

Depends:

Seungmin - i think he has had A LOT of endeavors before (probably more than changbin and i.n combined) but as of now im seeing him being more into a "settle down" state of mind so since he's not whoring around anymore i decided to put him in this category since i can't know for sure who has had a larger number, but i can feel who embodies what kind of energy and he doesn't give manwhore anymore like the other two so yeah, he gets 3rd place.

Felix - also was fing around a lot, not quite as much as seungmin tho, but now he has a higher purpose and has abandoned temptation and the ways of sin⛪️ also i see him having lots of regret and some other sorts of pain associated with his past sexual activities. Im seeing he desires cleanliness or like...something of that sort.

Hyunjin - has a lot if admirers, he likes feeding into it a bit but he doesn't really sleep around, he's really picky and i don't see him getting infatuated quickly with just anyone that gives him attention. So i think he's way more mindful than any of the members before, about who he sleeps with. So from here on i would say he is mid, cuz he still sleeps around or has done it, but its significantly less than the others, and im seeing him having actual standards and...not to sound mean or anything but i see him going to bed with quality people...contrary to the rest i don't see them being very mindful (and demure) about who they take to bed and who they stick it in...ugh why are men like that😭

Low:

Chan - he is very balanced. I like this energy. Didn't expect that from him to be honest but i think he mostly sleeps with people that he has long term connections in, most likely within a stable long term relationship. If not, than at the very least im seeing long term, trusted, respectful fwb.

Han - he's very devoted and has sex when there's strong emotions and a deep bond between him and the other person. I don't think he sleeps around AT ALL and ONLY does it within a stable, strong, long term relationship and is all about that. Being loyal and pick about who you open yourself up like that. Who ur being vulnerable with and who's trusting you to be vulnerable around u.

Lee Know - truly gives me ace tbh i really didn't expect that. I can see him having tried something here and there, maybe even still doing it whenever he must, but he shows me complete dessinierest. Like he gets lots of offers, interest, attention etc - but he does not care about that one bit. Im seeing him just minding his own business, so if u ask me i don't think he's really sexually active right now, if he is then its because of obligation more than interest. And overall i don't think he has had done sexual stuff mit many people, and even if he does, i don't see him really caring about it which...idk i keep hearing "it doesn't count, cuz i wasn't really there". So yeah do with that what you want.

[idolish7imagines]

So glad to see you posting again! I missed this blog <3 Could I request Gaku, Ryuuunosuke, Yamato, and possibly the Izumi brothers (separately) reacting to their S/O knocking on their doorstep in tears late at night, possibly having run away from or been kicked out by abusive parents with nothing but the clothes on their back and having nowhere else to go (no phone, keys, no cash or cards, just their clothes and their tears). S/O knows the risk of causing a scandal, but they literally had nowhere else to go. It's cool if the rest of the group (TRIGGER or I7) are in there, considering dorm-living. Sorry if this is kinda dark, drawing from personal experiences for this one (a dear friend let me crash at their place, so I'm fine) ^^;

Gaku, Ryuuunosuke, Yamato, Iori and Mitsuki reacting to their S/O being kicked out and living with them

a/n : Anon im so sorry! ;; i hope this makes your day a little easier

.::.

Gaku Yaotome

Gaku just wants you to stop crying. Its tearing him apart inside. The more he dries your face off, the more new tears come to replace the ones he just tended to.

His heart clenched, feelling like it was on fire. There was nothing he wanted more in this moment than to yell at your parents, tell them theyre wrong about you and everything else. Maybe even while you watch, just for you to get a chance to see how much he's on your side.

But, that would only make things worse, and thats not what you need. Right now, anyway.

His touch always lingered on you in some sort of way ever since you came in. On your back, neatly tucking a strand of hair on your head, half-hugs when he really desired to hold you completely and shield you from the world.

Gaku sort of...forgets to ask for permission before letting you stay over. You were in a rough place, so he couldn't just send you back into the cold.

He'd argue until his voice gave out if there were any protests about you staying with them though. Which there weren't, as Ryuu was fairly welcoming and while it was a surprise to Tenn, didn't mind after hearing out the predicament you were currently in.

Scandal is the last thing on his mind, he feels that as long as he's disguised, its fine if you two start going home together, but he'll be sure to be careful

Ryuunosuke Tsunashi

At first it was a pleasant surprise to see your face, thinking that this was a short notice visit, which he wouldn't have minded. But that quickly fades after his golden eyes get a glimpse of your tear stained face.

For a moment he's unsure what to think, even considering the possibility that he's the one that did this to you. But those worries were dashed and soon replaced with another, as soon as you opened your dry lips and began to recount to him what just transpired at your parents' house.

Once you're inside, he pulls you into a tight hug. One that'd probably hurt if you weren't so focused on how terrible you felt inside rather than your body.

While he wants you and your family to reconcile, tonight surely wasn't the time for it, you'd just have to stay at his place for now. It wasn't a bother, you're sad after all, he's actually glad he's here to help take some of the weight off.

His hands were always touching you in some way, holding your hand, rubbing your shoulders, or resting on your sides. Ryuu wanted so desperately to take the pain away.

Technically it was his house and he gets to say who can and can't stay there, but, he still feels the need to fill the rest of TRIGGER in on what's going on and that you could really use some positivity and support at the moment.

He also doesn't want you sleeping on the couch, even if it wasn't uncomfortable, it didn't feel right to make you do that after your night had already been so horrid, so you'll be sleeping with him from now on.

Yamato Nikaido

As he guided you into the dorm, Yamato drapes one of his jackets around your shoulders, inviting you to put it on. There isn't much he can say other than reassuring you that you have been wronged, now that your parents have made up their mind that they weren't letting you back (and he doubts they liked him more than you) but makes sure that you know you're welcome in the dorm whenever.

Despite that, he is pretty adamant on you getting your stuff back at the very least, and that he'll go with you to have his support.

While he can't exactly promise he knows where to go from there, he'll let you sleep in his room until you get things figured out

He might even finally get a bed to accommodate you.

Yamato is surprisingly helpful at getting you to calm down, keeping a cool head and gentle tone while he wipes your tears with a tissue.

"hey, Musashi is glad to have you here at least." He tries to lighten the atmosphere with a bit of humor.

Just for a moment, he'll leave you alone to explain to the other idols why you're here and that you probably aren't leaving soon.

Once he's back, he offers to help take your mind off of things with a movie and some snacks, since worrying right now wasn't going to do much of anything but make you more stressed.

Yamato is actually happy you came to him about this, that you decided to depend on him for comfort and somewhere to stay, even if it is a bit cramped for lack of a better term.

Unfortunately, he only has one chair in his room, so the best you can do is either find a way to cuddle up on the chair..or he's sleeping on the floor or couch in the living room. Not wanting to leave you alone for the night, he might just have to suffer on the floor with a blanket this time, but if its for your comfort, its not too much to sacrifice.

Iori Izumi

after predictably asking 'what happened', Iori gives a look of surprise and concern you don't see often from him, followed by quickly pulling you inside the dorm faster than you could process.

If/Once he's there at the dorm, the first person Iori tells about this is Mitsuki, seeking his guidance in a way for this situation. The dorm is plenty full already, and there's no rooms left, but he can't let you sleep outside or at some hotel since you have no money

Iori feels a little helpless for once, brainstorming of ways to take hold of the situation and fix this as soon as possible, almost to the point where he forgets you need to be comforted at the moment.

He forces himself to relax for your sake, but you can tell in his body posture how much its getting to him that this terrible situation came upon you. You, who's never done anything wrong in his eyes.

With reassurances that you'll get through this no matter what it takes, he goes to prepare a drink and meal for you, with his brother's help.

Iori will bring you anything you want, even if you don't ask, and from here on out will start texting you almost constantly when he's at lunch or on break at work to check on how you're doing. There's been a list started in his room on the steps the both of you are going to take to get through this and into a better situation.

His bed isnt that big, but its enough to get comfortable with. Pale cheeks had frequently started to turn a rosy hue when you cuddle up to him whether out of affection or to simply not fall off the bed.

Mitsuki Izumi

Mitsuki has to control his temper after hearing whats been done to you. He's ready to give those parents of yours an earful, but thats going to have to wait; you always are the first priority.

He hugs you in silence for a while, standing a little away from the door after he's let you in. Neither of you know how long the hug lasted, it could've been anywhere from 30 seconds to 7 minutes. But he stood there for as long as you needed.

Once you're sitting, he wipes your face with a handkerchief and asks if this is a permanent change and what all that you have with you at the moment. A displeased expression marrs his features one you say you came all this way with practically nothing, just that you didn't want to go back.

Thoughts flood his mind, not entirely of panic, but more along the line of what could your parents be thinking, kicking you out like this? As sweet as you are, he knows it couldn't have been your fault. And even if you did do something, it wouldn't have warranted something this drastic.

After a quick but gentle kiss to your forehead, he brings back blankets and gets to work on a meal or leftovers to offer you so you can start feeling at least a little better. It isn't much, but he wants to do whatever he can for his beloved.

Mitsuki's never dealt with something like bad or unfair parents before, so he can't even imagine your pain. But he promised you a long time ago that the two of you would stay by each other's side no matter what troubles or insecurities befall you, and he intends on keeping it.

Luckily since he's not that big, the bed sharing is pretty comfortable, and cuddling with Mitsuki for warmth, whether on the couch or bed is something you never minded before. His touches and presence made things more bearable.