#comment when you find hoodie

[ivrket]

[bbqhooligan]

i like tumblr cuz it has given me butch. its literally everything i could ask for. only thing that matters

[waves-against-a-cliff]

Simon Riley who after coming back to his flat (courtesy of the government) from his first deployment as 'Ghost', finds a momma cat yowling and crying. She's hurt and has four kittens tucked into her side. Simon takes them to the vet only to be informed that only one kitten survived and the momma is dead.

So he raises the kitten. Bhe bottle feeds it every two hours, keeps it warm and safe inside a box with a heating pad and a hoodie of his. He's sure that it'll die but he keeps trying anyways with the heart wrenching hope that he's wrong.

The kitten pulls through.

Now six years later, he has a sassy sphynx cat who cries and meows whenever she isn't fed on time. When his usual pet sitter bails on him just days before his next deployment, he scrambles. He never knows how long he'll be gone and that's an issue with pet hotels. He has to find someone trust worthy and capable of caring for his darling pet.

Then he meets you by pure coincidence. Ruthie had slipped between his legs on his way out to grab some more of the wet cat food she liked then made a bee line right towards you. She meowed and meowed until you crouched down to pet her. Simon swears he had never heard her purr that loudly before.

You smile up at him and comment on how he has a sweet cat (he doesn't. Ruthie knocks everything over and has broken so many mugs, plates and cracked so many screens he owns plastic versions of everything plus keeps his phone on him at all times). Simon says something about trying to find a pet sitter to you and immediately realizes what he said when you smile. "I can keep an eye on her for you. She seems like a sweetie." You coo and gently scratch under her chin. Traitor, it took him weeks to get her to let him do that. But how can he say no when she's already taken a liking to you.

[harrysfolklore]

what's a soft launch? - fc43

summary: fraco's girlfriend wants him to soft launch their relatioship but franco has no idea of what a soft launch is. based on this request

folkie radio: ANOTHER FRANCO SMAU !! i'm currently working on a long franco fic so consider this a little treat while i finish that one👀 i hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST | PATREON

liked my francolapinto, yourbff and 378 others

yourinstagram im the proudest girlfriend in the world because my boy is officially F1 DRIVER !! 🥹 go crush it my love 💙

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yourbff cuties 😍😍

username1 vamos franco !!

username2 ahhh congrats franco

username3 you’re officially a formula 1 WAG now how cool

username4 don’t forget me when you become the next alexandra saint mleux

username5 yaaayy for franco

username6 my favorite couple before you get viral

francolapinto te quiero hermosa 😍😍❤️

↳ yourinstagram 🥰🥰😚

liked by alex_albon, yourinstagram and 701,628 others

francolapinto VAMOS! excited for my first race in monza this weekend 🇮🇹

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username1 YAAAS

username2 hello ???? he’s gorgeous

username3 UMMM i was sad about logan but look at THIS

alex_albon 👏👏👏 Welcome !

landonorris let’s have some funnn

username4 IS HE SINGLE????

↳ username1 from what i’ve gathered, he has posts with a girl from last year but nothing recent (the girl’s account is private)

↳ username2 HES SINGLE WE WON

williamsracing 💙

username5 I HAVE MY NEW GRID CRUSH

yourinstagram 😍😍🤤 my man

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liked by francolapinto, yourbff and 375 others

yourinstagram cheering on my baby from home 🥺💙 VAMOS FRANCO !!

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yourbff YAYYY💘

username1 vamosss franco

username2 get your paddock passes girl

username3 gorgeous 😍

username4 we need your WAG debut

username5 🙌🙌🙌🙌

username6 i need that hoodie !!

francolapinto 😍😍😍

francolapinto i miss you so muchhh i love you

↳ yourinstagram love you forever

liked by yourinstagram, pierregasly and 587,638 others

francolapinto Que dia inolvidable… thank you so much for this opportunity 🇦🇷🤍💙🥹

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username1 KING

username2 franco colapinto consider me your fan

username3 HES SO DAMN HOT

williamsracing VAMOS 🙌

username4 LET ME BE YOUR WOMAN

username5 i can’t believe a man THIS hot is single

charles_leclerc Welcome 👌👌

username6 i bet he’s on raya and i’m not giving up until i find him

username7 both him and lando being single.. paris is my favorite city

username8 FOAMING AT THE MOUTH

username9 how long until he starts dating the journalist that kept flirting with him

yourinstagram 😍😍😍

yourinstagram mi amor ❤️

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yourinstagram has added to their stories

replies:

francolapinto im only yourssss bonita, always

↳ yourinstagram 🥹

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liked by francolapinto, yourbff and 398 others

yourinstagram a few days of rest and relaxation with mi amor 🥰

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username1 cutiesss

username2 my favorite anonymous WAG

yourbff my babies <33

username3 😍😍😍

username4 girl when are you going to the paddock?

↳ yourinstagram sooon

username5 i’m your biggest fan

username6 couple goals

francolapinto I love youuu😘😘😘

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liked by username1, username2 and 3,987 others

f1gossip During Williams' latest podcast episode, Alex Albon joked that Franco Colapinto's superpower was "his ability to charm all the ladies everywhere", Franco said that no one is charming him because he has a girlfriend 👀

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username1 HUHHH

username2 franco is so strange

username3 i know his ass is lying

username4 WHAT HAPPENED TO THE ORIGINAL PLOT OF THE MOVIEEEEE

username5 sometimes i don't understand what's up with him

username6 watch him flirt with all the interviewers tomorrow tho

username7 NOO FRANCO YOU'RE SINGLE

username8 he's lying his ass offffff

username9 pics or didn't happen

liked by francolapinto, lilymhe and 402 others

yourinstagram my first grand prix weeked. no biggie im ready

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username1 yayy about time girl!

yourbff HAVE FUN and don't forget to send me pics 💕

username2 my favorite WAG

lilymhe welcome to our silly world 💙

↳ yourinstagram love you already !

carmenmmundt So nice to meet you sweetie!

↳ yourinstagram likewise 🥺

username3 you're going to change us for your new wag friends

↳ yourinstagram neverrr

lilyzneimer 🤩

francolapinto My girl and now everyone will know 😉

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liked by francolapinto, yourinstagram and 865,088 others

williamsracing Love is in the air in Austin 💙

tagged: francolapinto, yourinstagram

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username1 OMFG??

username2 NOT WILLIAMS EXPOSING HER INSTA

username3 WAIT i saw pics of franco tagging her BUT I DIDN'T THINK THEY WERE A COUPLE

username4 AHHH HER INSTA IS PRIVATE

lilymhe 💕💕💕

username5 franco colapinto is the coolest driver the grid had seen recently

username6 GET FRANCO A SEAT

username7 they said fuck a soft launch

username8 THAT SHOULD BE ME

francolapinto 😍😍

yourinstagram 🥺

liked by username1, username2 and 5,099 others

f1gossip "My girlfriend is over there, she said she wanted to do something called sub lunch, or what was it called? Soft launch, yeah that. No hablo ingles no se que es, I just brought her with me so everyone can see I'm happily taken" - Franco for Sky before the race 😭😭

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username1 FRANCO OMFG

username2 hes so unintentionally funny

username3 him saying that he doesn't know what a soft launch is bc he doesn't speak english was me ROLLING

username4 franco the man that you are

username5 I CANT DO THIS 😩😩😩

username6 i need him bibically

username7 HES SO MESSY

username8 i need this or nothing

yourinstagram has added to their stories

replies:

lilymhe where have you been all my life?

↳ yourinstagram in the junior formulas 😂😂

yourbff my favorite WAG

francolapinto hermosa 😍😍

↳ yourinstagram love you so damn muuuch

username1 feed the people put the instagram public

↳ yourinstagram maybe...

liked by francolapinto, lilymhe and 348,099 others

yourinstagram he didn't understand the concept of a soft launch so we had to do this in the middle of the paddock 😅 love you so much mi amor @/francolapinto

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username1 AHHH

username2 HER INSTA IS PUBLIC NOW

username3 all the boyfriend content here im going insane

lilymhe cuties 💕

↳ alex_albon We need to step up our game

↳ lilymhe definitely

↳ username1 i love them sm

username5 THIS SHOULD'VE BEEN ME

username6 franco colapinto being a simp in a long term relationship wasn't on my bingo card

username7 can we talk about how pretty she is tho?

username8 THANK YOU FOR LETTING US IN BESTIE

francisca.cgomes my new bestie actually!

↳ yourinstagram love you already 🥺

↳ username2 AHHH BEST WAGS

username9 scrolled all the way down and she has the cutest posts about franco i cant

username10 IM SO JEALOUS

username11 franco not knowing what a soft launch is PEAK COMEDY

francolapinto love you hermosa 😍

↳ yourinstagram 😙😙😙

liked by yourinstagram, alex_albon and 1,022,379 others

francolapinto what's a soft launch?

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username1 FRANCOOOOO

username2 i love him so bad

username3 HOW TO MAKE A FORMULA 1 TEAM FOR FRANCO COLAPINTO FROM SCRATCH

username4 this man is so messy i cant help but love him

oscarpiastri I didn't know what that meant either, don't worry

↳ username1 LORD HELP ME 😭😭

olliebearman 🙌

username5 FRANCO LET ME BE YOUR WOMAN 😩😩

username6 franco is really a SIMP and not a fuckboy like everyone thought WE WON

williamsracing We love to see it💙💙

username7 wiki how to have franco's gfs life

username8 CRYING

username9 franco don't you ever gatekeep her from us again we need her at every race

yourinstagram i'm the luckiest ever 💕

↳ username1 AND YOU ARE

↳ francolapinto love you forever hermosa

[stunie]

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁ “MY BOYFRIEND IS GONNA KICK YOUR ASS !”

WINDBREAKER BOYS PROTECTING YOU FROM PERVS. ft. kaji ren, togame jo, umemiya hajime, sakura haruka, hayato suo, toma hiragi, kiryuu mitsuki, & kyotaro sugishita x f!reader

sfw. wc: 2.6K. oh how i’ve been wanting to write this since i finished the manga! but individual warnings are below <3

KAJI REN. referred to as she/her, ‘my girl,’ comments about your outfit

“My boyfriend’s real scary y’know.” Your voice falters a bit as you take another step back, hands coming up defensively. “And he’ll be here any moment.”

It’s a lie that you hope sounds convincing— because Kaji coming to save you today may be nothing more than a desperate wish of yours. How would he even find you in a place like this? You’re not sure exactly how much time has passed since you’ve started running, but you’re certain that by now, you and Kaji should have already been inside the bakery, finally getting to taste test the new fruit pastries you’d been dying to get your hands on.

It started off as just a loud whistle your direction, then led to an uncomfortable conversation about how you’re not interested— and that you have a boyfriend. One thing led to another, and somehow you’ve ended up here, out of breath from speed walking and completely lost— and to top it off, the only person near you is the one you’ve been running so desperately from.

You wish Kaji was here already.

“Oh yeah?” The man in front of you takes a step towards you, lips contorting into a sick grin when he sees your hands trembling. “I don't see him.”

Your lips tremble a bit when he reaches you, towering over you with ease. “Don’t you dare touch me.” You warn, “My boyfriend will beat your a—” you yelp as you’re suddenly pulled to the side, stumbling into someone’s chest as they pull you flush against their front.

The familiar scent of candy melts away your fear in a split second.

“Kaji!”

You can tell when you glance at him just once that he isn’t happy. His forehead is damp with sweat, and he looks disheveled, chest rising up and down with labored breaths— he must have been running around trying to find you this entire time.

Your boyfriend clicks his tongue in annoyance, eyes narrowing as he sizes up the man in front of him. “Problem?”

He rips off his headphones, letting them hang around his neck as the man feigns an apology, unapologetic eyes looming over your figure again seconds later. “But y’know man, you should be keeping a closer eye on your girl,” he points to you with a smug smile, “she was practically begging for me to say something with the way she’s dressed.”

“I wasn’t!” You protest, face burning as you tug on ren’s coat. You thought your outfit was cute— and definitely not anything crazy— you double checked. You really did. But he’s pointing at you now, rambling on about how you wanted this— and you can’t help the way tears start to blur your vision.

“Huh?” Kaji snarls, head tilting to leer at the man. The arm around your waist pulls you tighter against his chest, and you hear the angry thumping of his heart. “What'd you say?”

“Okay, okay, I’m leaving now.” The man chuckles in defeat. “I was just joking. Wasn’t gonna actually do something to your girl.” he waves him off. “You should lighten up—”

He chokes when Kaji grabs a fistful of his shirt, pulling him off balance before knocking him backwards, your pursuer falling roughly onto the floor as he winces in pain. “Then get outta here already.” Kaji glares, a stark contrast to the gentle way his hand is pressing against your lower back to guide you away.

“And don’t let me catch you looking at my girl again.”

TOGAME JO. referred to as she/her, ‘my girl,’ you wear his jacket

Togame gives you a sleepy smile as he watches you from Miniso’s entrance, excitedly sorting through the newly restocked blind boxes. He was resting his back against the wall behind him when he caught his first glimpse of that guy.

He’s wearing a dark hoodie, head turning back to shamelessly stare your direction as he passes by slowly. It’s enough to get togame back up on his feet immediately, quickly heading your way just as the man reaches to get a feel of your thighs—

“How shameless.” Togame laughs, big hand squeezing painfully into his wrist. “Tryna bother my girl?”

In any other situation, Togame would chuckle at your obliviousness, your headphones cancelling out any noise as your eye catches the cinnamoroll section, letting out an excited gasp as you head that way. You really had no idea.

“M-my bad man.” He stutters, ripping his arm from Togame’s grasp. “Just thought she was my sister— was just gonna tap on her back to grab her attention.”

Togame raises an eyebrow at the lazy excuse, leaning down until the man takes a nervous step back, eyes darting to the side to avoid Togame’s glare. “Sister? That’s my Shishitoren jacket she has on, no?”

The man feels heavy beads of sweat roll down his face when Togame’s hands curl into clenched fists. “You mean to tell me your lil sis is from Shishitoren?”

“I said it was my bad,” he repeats, chuckling nervously. “It won’t happen again okay? I won’t bother her again.”

Togame’s hands return to his pockets. “Won’t let you off so easy next time,” his voice is low as he steps aside to let him off, “so you’d better keep your distance.”

UMEMIYA HAJIME. referred to as she/her, ‘your girl’

Umemiya instinctively perks up when he hears two voices behind him, momentarily tuning out your gushing about how cute the little plant kits at barnes and noble are.

“….She's probably taken.”

“Is that her boyfriend behind her? Think she's talking to him.”

There's a chuckle between them. “Doesn’t matter. Go tell her what you just said to me when she's alone.”

“What?” The man laughs. “Ask her if i can grab a handful of that ass?”

More laughter.

Umemiya’s jaw clenches, eyes darting back at you in a flash, and he’s relieved when he sees you’re still gushing about the flower kits— completely oblivious to the two men just beyond this aisle. He’s by your side in an instant, arms wrapping around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Oh.” You turn to press a quick kiss against his temple, smiling when he melts into your touch. “Hi, Haji. Did you find a book?”

“Nothing here.” He sighs dramatically, his embrace around your middle tightening just enough for you to barely notice. “But we can grab some of those flower kits.”

“Really?”

“Of course—”

“Hey.” A familiar voice interrupts him with a stifled laugh, followed by a tap on his shoulder. With the roughness, it’s more like a jab— but he lets that slide.

“Ah— your friend, Haji.” Your voice comes off as a mix between a question and a statement.

“Hey, my friend has something to ask your girl.”

Umemiya’s jaw clenches again, and your eyes widen a bit at the sudden change in the atmosphere. The first friend’s hand is swat off of his shoulder in a split second, Umemiya straightening back up to look back at them.

Their first thought is that he’s a lot taller than they had pictured. A lot more muscular too— and they take note of the way his muscles bulge against the fabric of his shirt. “What, you have business with her?”

They flinch at the tone.

“Ah— sorry.” The second friend stutters. “We got the wrong person.”

SAKURA HARUKA.

“Ah— what happened?” Your hands delicately cup Sakura’s face, ignoring the way his cheeks instantly turn into a deep shade of scarlet. “N-nothing happened!” He weakly swats at your hand, a futile attempt to dissipate the heat spreading through the tips of his ears.

“I was only in the bathroom for five minutes.” You laugh. “How’d you manage to get into a fight so fast?”

He stiffens when your arms come to wrap around his bicep, resuming your ramble about some recipe you wanted to try tonight. Macarons…or something. He doesn’t pay much attention, because he knows whatever you end up making will be good anyway.

“—Are you listening, Sakura?”

The clueless look he gives you confirms it. “So you weren’t. I had a feeling— but it’s okay.” You giggle. “But you didn’t answer my question from earlier either. How’d you get into a fight?”

His eyebrows furrow deeply as he decides whether or not he should tell you. “They were….” he clicks his tongue angrily, “they were talking about you when you walked by.”

You can feel his muscles tense as he deepens his scowl, still trying to fight off the blush plastered across his face. “I just gave ‘em what they deserved.”

HAYATO SUO. referred to as she/her, mentions of how you’re dressed

“What a bitch. She was totally asking for it.”

I know— dressed like a whore.”

Suo stands up from the bench outside your local convenience store, hands dusting off the dirt on his pants. You had asked him to wait outside earlier because ‘you wanted to grab him a super delicious snack that he would most definitely love.’

He had a feeling the two dirty men who entered the store minutes later were bad news, so he was already on high alert before listening in.

“That whore— you mean my girlfriend?” Suo’s voice comes out calm, a stark contrast to the sickening anger and pressure he feels building up inside his chest.

“Huh—oh. Yeah.” One of them chuckles, jutting their thumb at the entrance. “That bitch inside your girl? You let her prance around with her tits hanging out for everyone to see?”

He's calm and composed as they size him up, their chins tilting up to look down at him. “She's pretty, isn't she?” and Suo fails to stifle the chuckle that escapes his lips. “Did she reject you too harshly for your liking?”

One of them balls his fists, muttering profanities under his breath as he leans closer to him. “Now how'd you know that? You should really teach that bitch some fucking manners.” He reaches forward to grab Suo by the collar, eyes blinking in confusion when he finds himself spun behind Suo seconds later, feet struggling to find their balance.

“—The fuck did you do?”

“It’s a bad habit of hers,” Suo continues. “I understand it though, not wanting to be around a pathetic thing like you.” The edges of his lips tug into a faint smile.

The other man’s eyebrows twitch, spitting empty threats as he he throws a wide swing, only to find himself reduced to his knees seconds later. “T-the fuck...” he grumbles to himself— he could have sworn he could practically see his fist connect. What happened?

“You'd be better off looking for someone to protect yourself the way I do for her.” His words are mocking as he heads towards the store’s entrance. “And— it'd be really unfortunate if i see something like this happen again.”

TOMA HIRAGI.

“H-Hiragi? What are you doing?”

Your lips are pressed in a nervous line as your hands come to shyly rest on his chest, sucking in a breath when his arms come to roughly cage you against the train’s walls, strong body towering just over yours.

“Do you…need more space?” You whisper, heart racing at the proximity. You can smell his cologne so well at this distance.

Hiragi simply shakes his head, distracted gaze shifting between you and something behind him every few seconds. “It’s okay.”

He swears his stomach isn't churning like this without good reason. It’s not just a coincidence that the same person who he had noticed eyeing you at the boba shop had gotten onto the same train. He could let it go at that, but the same man had been slowly worming his way through the crowd to get closer to the two of you. And while he’s not certain, he thought he saw the man take out his phone and try and angle it beneath you, but not before jolting and dropping his phone onto the floor when Hiragi's hands abruptly slammed against the wall beside you.

The train suddenly rocks, sliding his phone to the other side of the train, and you’re knocked off balance, face slamming against Hiragi's chest. “S-sorry!”

“It’s okay.” He gives you a smile, hand coming to cradle the back of your head and pull you closer. “You okay?”

“I’m okay...” you mumble, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Your chest is hard.”

He responds with a light chuckle. It’ll be okay like this, he thinks. He’ll protect you with his body for now, and figure out what to do with that guy later.

KIRYU MITSUKI. ‘pretty thing’

“It’s no wonder she doesn't like you,” Kiryu sighs. “You're gross.”

Your mouth is ajar as you stare at the state of the man who was harassing you only moments ago, his unconscious body resting neatly against the wall after Kiryu had dragged him there.

“Sorry you had to watch that, pretty thing.” His hand comes to gently interlace with yours. “But he didn't leave me with much of a choice, did he?”

“It’s okay.” Your voice drops to a whisper. “That was so cool of you.”

His eyes widen a bit before his lips curl into a small smile. “Oh? You think so?”

“Mhm. I don't know what would’ve happened to me if you were there...” your voice trails off a bit.

You really don't know what would have happened, because it's not like you know how to fight or anything. Getting hit on is enough to make you nervous, so a pushy guy like that was too much— you froze up as soon as he started spitting threats after you expressed your disinterest.

There’s a light squeeze around your hands, and you’re reminded of this gentle warmth that Kiryu always brings with him. “Don't worry about it.” He gives you a small smile. “I’ll just need to accompany you more often when you go out. It’s no problem.”

KYOTARO SUGISHITA.

“You’re like a bodyguard, Kyo.”

You giggle at the huff beside you. “How’d you even react that fast?”

It all happened within a second. You were walking beside him, stopped for a brief second to bend down and peer at the plushies lining the shop window, not noticing the man approaching you— his grimy fingers coming to take a peek under your skirt. Before you had even registered the feeling of the cloth moving, there was a loud crack, and the man was on the floor, groaning with his hands covering his bloodied face and a very angry Sugishita on top of him.

“He made me angry.”

Of course he would be. And if you weren’t with your boyfriend, it would be an entirely different story. You’d bring along your assortment of self defense items, ranging from pepper sprays to taser lipsticks— and you’d be a thousand times more cautious. Pay extra close attention to everything around you.

With Sugishita, however, it’s different. You think of it as being able to turn off your brain… or something like that. Whatever lets you truly relax and enjoy your time with him, and it’s always okay because your boyfriend is there to protect you. “Well, don’t be so mad, cutie.” You smile, your fingers reaching to interlace with his as he tenses at the nickname.

“Everything is okay— I’m okay. I’ll even get us smoothies to help lighten the mood.”

He lets you drag him to your favorite smoothie shop in silence— still fuming about the incident. He wonders why you’re not shaken up. Ifnhe had been one second later, that piece of shit would have lifted up your skirt. In public. His jaw clenches at the thought, angry eyes darting at any anyone who dares look your direction.

“Why’re…” his voice trails off, remembering what Umemiya said about toning down his choice of words around others. “Why’re you so happy?”

“Hmm? I’m not too worried.” You laugh. “You’re my bodyguard right? Nothing will happen if you’re here.”

part 2

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

you’re borrowing your boyfriend!jason todd’s…

hoodie

it’s big, it’s warm, and it smells like your big warm boyfriend. of course you stole it. luckily jason runs hot..or that’s what he tells you at least. the man gets cold too, but he’d never tell you that. not when you look so cozy in his sweatshirt.

sweats

your favorite thing of his to match with his hoodie. his sweatpants are super warm, super soft, and super baggy. meant for ultimate comfort. jason loves it when you go full out sweatsuit in his clothes. like, loves it. you’re like his own personal teddy bear to hold on to while he falls asleep. who needs sweats when he has you to keep him warm..in his.

t shirt

sometimes, when the weather’s warmer, you’ll steal one of jason’s shirts to thrown on over a pair of panties. you’re oblivious to the fact that this combination makes jason go absolutely buck wild. somehow you’ve never made the connection. but more than once he’s found you sprawled across the couch, watching tv, and ended up going down on you. his head nestled between your thighs as you grip his raven locks. his hands are fisted into the loose fabric of his shirt that you’re wearing. he’s not satisfied until your legs are shaking, your moans intermingling with the wet, borderline pornographic, sounds that he’s creating with his mouth on your clit. he never lets you get him back either, even though you know he was grinding his crotch against the couch, chasing that sweet friction and release along with you. but he always just sits you atop his lap after, kissing your cheek as he brushes your hair out of your face. grips your thigh as he makes a comment about the show playing, your panties long forgotten on the floor.

underwear

you never get very far wearing a pair of your boyfriend’s boxers. for one, they’re pretty loose on you, so you have to roll the waistband a couple times, which just gives jason a prime view of your ass. they also just make it so easy for him to get his hand down the front, his strong fingers expertly finding your clit like he’s memorized a map of your body. which, in some ways, he has. it’s not long before you’ve come, once, twice, almost a third time, and he’s pulling his own boxers off to free his stiff cock. it points out, the tip leaking, and you’re opening your legs wider without even realizing it. he grabs your waist, sliding you closer to the edge of the bed, making sure you’re ready before he slides in, burying himself in you. he bottoms out, and you’re throwing your head back, a third orgasm threatening to crest as he starts up a rhythm. the muscles of his stomach ripple as he thrusts in and out. one of his hands is on your waist, the other slowly snaking its way back down to your clit. your toes curl at the feel of his calloused thumb rubbing circles on that sensitive bundle of nerves. he’s groaning, low in his throat, at the way you look on his cock. it never gets old for him, ever. the way your cheeks flush, how adorable your blown out pupils are when you look up at him. your wet lashes, your messy hair. your entrance clenches around his cock as you come a third time, your hands gripping the bed sheets. jason comes along with you, groaning loudly as he paints your insides with white ropes of cum. he pulls out, wetting a washcloth in the bathroom. the wet, warm fabric feels like heaven against your sensitive folds, your boyfriend wiping away the mixture of fluids between your legs. you feel pleasantly boneless, sinking into the pillows at the head of the bed. your boyfriend cleans himself up after, settling into bed next to you. jason wraps his strong arms around you, and it’s better than any clothes you might steal. but what you don’t know, is that he’d let you steal his clothes anytime.

[zepskies]

Headcanon: Wearing His Clothes

Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

AN: I haven't done one of these in a while! This one was requested by the lovely @luci-in-trenchcoats. 💜

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Fluff, spiciness/implied smut

Headcanon: How Dean, Beau, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would react to you (getting caught) wearing his clothes.

Dean Winchester

Ugh, what a cocky SOB. 😆 (And yet, not the cockiest of them all.)

You've been doing it for weeks now, without comment from him.

But every time he sees you in one of his undershirts, getting ready for bed, it's always accompanied by a little once-over. A curve of his lips. A smirk, if you will.

He likes the look of you.

He likes that you're his.

And he likes the fact that you feel comfortable enough to steal his clothes.

He also likes welcoming you into bed next to him, with a hand running up your back, or venturing under whatever undershirt you've decided to slip on to feel the warmth of your skin.

"'S this mine?" he asks. You give him a quirking smile.

"You know it is," you say, with playful challenge.

Dean accepts that with a hum and leans in for a kiss as payment.

Sometimes that one stolen kiss leads to another, simmering with heat. And he’ll take great pleasure in taking back his shirt, casting it to the floor and rolling you underneath him on the bed.

But it doesn't stop at his undershirts. You steal his plaid ones if you want something to comfortably drown in when you're doing research, or just lounging in the bunker. The material is soft from several hundred washes. (The red and black one is one of your favorites.)

Rare though it is for him to wear hoodies, it's rarer still, because Dean can never even find one in his side of the dresser.

That's because you're keeping it hostage on your side, buried under your lingerie. (Even if he tried to find the hoodie, odds are he’ll get distracted.)

It gets to the point where he can hardly find anything of his.

His brows furrow as he rucks through his drawers for something clean to wear, while clad in only his most threadbare sweatpants.

"Damn it, woman. Where are my shirts?" he grouses.

You bite your lip and pretend to keep reading your book. You're already safe in bed, covered up to your chest by the blankets.

"I don't know. Have you done your laundry?" you ask, smiling to yourself. Dean catches you, with a suspicious brow raise.

He climbs into bed and snatches the covers away from you. You yelp at the suddenness and try to grab at them, but it's too late.

He discovers that you're wearing one of his newer shirts, which he had to buy to replace the ones he just can't seem to find.

"Are you kidding me? This is Theft in the First goddamn Degree!" he exclaims, even though he's close to laughing at the way you're already giggling. He manages to pin you underneath him on the bed, and he has half a mind to take this shirt back as well, by whatever means necessary.

And yes, tickling is one of those means.

"Sweetheart, for the love of God. Why do you keep taking my shit?" he asks, in a way that's half-serious in his frustration, but also half-teasing.

You shrug shamelessly, still smiling. You run your hands up his bare arms and shoulders, and back down his chest.

"I don't know. It's comfortable," you say. But your eyes lower as your face begins to warm with a blush. "Makes me feel safe...like you're always with me."

At that, the tension in Dean's shoulders eases. His smile can't help but soften around the edges as he looks down on you, now with fondness. After a while, he lets out a deep sigh.

"All right," he says.

You grin, because you know he's given up. You lean up for a kiss that successfully distracts him.

Dean still gets annoyed sometimes when he can't find a specific item of clothing in his drawer, but now, all he has to do is go over to your side of the dresser.

There he knows he'll eventually find what he's looking for.

Beau Arlen

Heh, in this episode of “Whose Hat is it Anyway”...

Beau's wardrobe reminds you of a cowboy in modern times.

Lots of browns and beiges, lots of slacks and buttoned-down shirts tucked in with an army of belts to choose from (even though the man only owns a few pairs of boots). Not to mention a slew of jackets that often pull the look together.

But being that he's new to Montana (specifically, Montana winters), you like to buy him sweaters. Cable-knits and soft ones in earth tones that you think bring out his eyes.

Beau accepts whatever you get him and graciously wears them. He trusts your judgment on what looks good on him, and he appreciates the way you think of him.

It's just one of those ways, however small, that you show that you care and that you're looking out for him.

One night while he's working late, however, you find yourself trying to reorganize the closet. The man is "organized chaos" at best, and you find one of his sweaters on the floor. It's a nice burgundy one that you bought him recently.

Ooh, so soft, you think, while feeling the fabric between your fingers.

You don't know what possesses you, but you decide to slip out of your pajamas and try it on yourself.

SO damn soft, you realize, as you practically drown in the sweater. It hangs about to mid-thigh.

Then you see one of his beige Stetsons hanging on the wall. A sneaking smile curves your lips, before you slip on his hat.

To complete the ensemble, you dig into the recesses of your closet and find a pair of your old cowboy boots. You go out into the bedroom and check yourself out in the mirror with a growing smirk.

"Hey there, darlin'," you try to impersonate your boyfriend's subtle Texan twang, and even his mannerisms by winking at yourself, tipping the hat forward.

You giggle at your own silliness in this moment, but alone in your own house, who freakin' cares? You should feel free to dance naked through the whole damn place if you feel like it.

So you spin on your heel and do a little twirl in your boots.

"Who's the sheriff now, huh?" You mime a pair of guns with your hands and shoot at your reflection. "Psh, psh!"

But that's when you catch sight of one Beau Arlen, leaning against the bedroom doorway with his arms crossed. An amused grin is plastered to his face.

You freeze in shock, still with your "gun hands" held up.

"Oh, don't stop the show on my account," Beau says slyly. He gestures at you. "Please, continue."

Your hot blush spreads from your cheeks and quickly begins to travel down your neck. "Uh...I was just...you know, cleaning the closet. You're very messy, you know!"

Beau snorts and draws closer. Those green eyes of his take in the full sight of you, down your bare thighs and cowboy boots, and back up to your embarrassed face. You bite your bottom lip on reflex.

"You know, I like what you got goin' on here," he says, waving a hand down your form. "But it's just...it's missing something."

He takes his badge with the gold star off his belt and pins it to your sweater.

"There you go. Perfect fit," he says, even as his hand slides up the slope of your back. You find yourself pulled further into his orbit as you try (and fail) to stamp down a smile.

"You're late, you know," you remind him. Beau bows his head and presses a kiss into your neck. You feel his smirk there.

"I'm sorry, Sheriff. Gonna arrest me, or let me off with a warning?" he teases. His other hand comes up to adjust the hat on your head. You smirk and cling to his arms over his dark brown jacket. It's one of his nicer ones.

"I think I can let you off," you play along. You lean up to skim your lips across his cheek, and closer to his ear. "But only for good behavior."

He has to chuckle then. "I can accept those terms..."

Beau's hands slip under your stolen sweater and begin to slide it up your body, inch by inch.

"Though I'm gonna need you to keep the boots on," he says lowly, just before he claims you with a searing kiss.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Oh, here we go. 😅

As with most things, it's a point of pride for Ben.

He'd prefer you be too fucked out to move, let alone put on clothes after he's finished with you.

On the rare occasion that your body doesn't feel too much like warm molasses after a few hot rounds with your boyfriend, you like to at least grab one of his discarded shirts to cover yourself.

If he still has energy, he'll take that as a challenge. He'll try to slip his hands underneath whatever shirt you've found and divest you of it, so he can start devouring you again.

However. Ben does like seeing you in his clothes, in a possessive, claiming way.

There are days when you just want to be swallowed up in one of his large, comfortable shirts as you lounge about the house.

Ben sometimes watches you putter around, cleaning, working, cooking, reading, or watching TV in nothing but his clothes. He wonders if you're even wearing panties. You could be bare faced with a severe case of bed head, but his eyes will still occasionally follow you.

His expression doesn't reveal too much, but he likes it. (And because you know him, you know it too.)

Maybe he'll catch you as you pass by, hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him. You startle with a yelp, but then you grab onto his arms and smile.

"Can I help you, sir?" you tease.

"Think you can just walk by me, looking sexy as fuck?" he remarks. He steals a slow, thorough kiss. You cup his face and bring him back in for more, tenderly stroking his cheek.

"You know why I like wearing your stuff?" you ask. Your smile hints at teasing.

Ben arches a brow. "Why?"

"Because it keeps you looking," you reply. And you reach a hand around to slap his ass, for good measure.

Then you saunter away from him to get back to what you were doing.

Or at least, you try to.

Ben grabs your hand and pulls you back towards him, back into the cage of his arms, where he falls back into the trap you've so often laid. And he finishes what you started.

AN: Well, then. 😂 I hope you guys enjoy this! Who had your favorite reaction: Dean, Beau, or Ben? 😘

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[thelostconsultant]

The bet

pairing: Lando Norris x reader

summary: You and Lando got married before the beginning of the season, but no one knows you're together. You make a bet at the wedding, and Lando truly believes he can get through the season with everyone believing he's single.

fc: The one in the red hoodie is just a random girl from pinterest, while the other two are AI generated. Don't take it seriously. The other photo is also from pinterest.

“What?” you asked, although the question came out more like a bark than a well formulated question.

Lando had been watching you with that stupid grin of his for long minutes now, and you couldn't hide your annoyance any longer. You loved him, you really did, but God, was he annoying sometimes. As you waited for his response, he held up a finger and opened a video on his phone for you.

It was him at the last race weekend, standing on the stage with Oscar. Nothing new. But then he talked about being single, and after this part he quickly moved over to the comments. Everyone was either offering to date him or felt sorry for him, there was no in between. But you couldn't feel sorry for him. 

“You're still gonna lose,” you told him with a laugh.

With a thoughtful hum, he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you against his chest. “You read the comments. I'm the people's princess, they feel so sorry for me. No one suspects a thing. I'm safe,” he said with a confident smile.

Over half a year ago, on the day of your secret wedding at a remote part of the world, the two of you had made a bet. You said he wouldn't be able to keep this secret, that there was no way he could last this season without people finding out he was not only in a relationship, but married too. He begged to differ, saying he was pretty good at keeping secrets.

Now, after all those months, you sometimes had your weak moments when you were sure you would lose, although this was something you were under no circumstances about to tell him. His ego was already big enough when it came to the bet, the last thing you wanted was things getting worse in this sense.

If he won, he would get the right to decide when and how to announce your marriage. And if it was up to him, it would be a hard launch, like a wrecking ball crashing into a building to tear down the walls. He wanted chaos, he wanted everyone to know how much he loved you. It was flattering, really, but could he not?

Because Lando wanted a big, flashy event with all of his friends from on and off the grid, and he wanted alcohol to flow like water while the music blasted loudly around you. It would only come to an abrupt stop the moment he grabbed the mic and announced how much he loved his wife, only to cause the guest to murmur loudly as they tried to figure out if he was just drunk or dead serious.

If you won, it would mean people found out about you, so your prize would be something other than how you made this relationship public. But what could you ask for? So, in the end, you told him you would get to make a wish one day when you figured out what you wanted, and he couldn't say no when you asked.

As of now, people didn't know about you at all. You were just a nameless McLaren employee to them who sometimes showed up on photos with the rest of the team. To make sure you could stay in the background, he even asked one or two girls during the time you were still in the dating phase to pose as his girlfriends for a while. It would only come with a few photos and posts, sometimes appearances in the paddock. Nothing serious, really.

While you could wear your wedding band all the time, Lando didn't have the freedom to do the same. Sure, he had it, safely locked away with the rest our your jewelry until the day your marriage became public. Now he only had a necklace with a pendant you chose, your initials engraved into it with small letters so it wouldn't be so obvious on photos.

“I've been thinking,” you suddenly said, moving your head a little so you could look him in the eye. When he let out a questioning hum and flashed a smile at you, you reached out to play with his pendant. “Why don't we raise the stakes in our little bet?”

Lando kissed your cheek, then he said, “You hate it that I'm winning.”

Rolling your eyes, you let out a sigh. “No, I just had an idea for a little experiment. What if you wore your wedding band on the next race weekend?” you asked with an innocent look on your face.

It was mean, you knew that, because this would surely draw attention to him. Him wearing the ring could only result in losing the game. But you had to do something, you wanted to win. Well, you just didn't want your dear husband to win, but that was almost the same. 

“That would be too obvious,” he replied with a shake of his head.

“Buy a few more and say you're copying Lewis,” you offered with a cheeky grin. 

He shook his head with a laugh, then took a deep breath. “And what do I get if they don't notice?” 

You had thought a lot about this, because you knew it had to be something big, something he really wanted. And there was only one thing that came to your mind. “You get two kids,” you told him casually. 

But Lando wasn't stupid, he knew this was the moment to negotiate. “Hmm… You know I want a big family. Three and I'll do it.”

He would lose anyway, so why would you say no? “All right, three. But if I win, we'll only have one,” you reminded him.

He nodded before leaning down to kiss you. “I’ll win, so you can start picking names,” he said with a confident grin.

You: Sorry, babe, you officially lost the bet. <link>

A few seconds later your phone rang, and you answered Lando’s call with a satisfied smile on your face. You just wanted to rub it in his face, you wanted him to know he lost the bet. To be honest, ever since you’d seen this post, you’d been thinking about what to ask for, and a soft launch of your relationship sounded quite nice. 

“I didn’t lose,” he said right away. 

“You saw the post, someone spotted the ring.”

To your surprise, Lando started to laugh, a carefree sound that made it clear he was sure he was winning this. “Do you want me to remind you that you’re not here with me right now? And that video of us was recorded during the summer break in Greece. The bet was about me wearing the ring this weekend. So no, sweetheart, you definitely did not win this one,” he explained, and you could see that smug smirk on his face. 

“Still, the original bet–”

He tutted to interrupt you. “No, no, you changed the rules with the ring. I won. No one noticed it this weekend.”

“Let’s call it a tie,” you tried, although you knew he had you in a corner now. 

“I want to talk about the prize,” he began, waiting until he heard you hum to let him go on. “We agreed that if I win, we’ll have three kids, if you win, we’ll only have one. If it’s a tie, then fine, let’s settle with two.”

You remained silent for a while as you thought about this. He was right, it would be only fair to reach a compromise, and in this case it involved the number of your future children. If it was a tie, then two was the logical conclusion, there was no reason to argue with him. So, you took a deep breath that you let out slowly until you gathered your thoughts. “All right, fine. And what about us? I mean, our relationship. Do we keep it a secret, or…?”

“What do you want? If you’d rather not be in the spotlight, we can deny everything if there'll be a bigger buzz about that tweet,” he said kindly, his patience with you painfully obvious. 

But you didn’t want to hide, you wanted things to be out in the open now. “I’d say let’s do a soft launch with mysterious posts for a while. But if you have a different idea, I’m open to it,” you assured him. 

Lando let out a thoughtful hum. “We have a short break now, soooooo… Okay, we do the soft launch, but you come to the next race with me, as yourself, not disguised as a McLaren team member, and we’ll wear our rings and everything.”

“That’s pretty much a hard launch.”

There was a scoff on the other end of the line. “You get almost two weeks of soft launch, what more do you want? Come on, I need you by my side,” he begged you sweetly. 

You agreed. There was no way you could say no to him.

liked by oscarpiastri, martingarrix and 522,145 others

landonorris: My wife, the queen of the house 😍🥰❤️

tagged: yourusername

view all comments

yourusername: LANDO!

⤷ landonorris: Yes, love?

⤷ yourusername: You said you'll give me two weeks. That's it, you're sleeping on the couch when you get home.

oscarpiastri: What did I miss? Last time we talked, you were chronically single.

⤷ landonorris: I don't know what you're talking about, I've been happily married for over half a year.

⤷ user1: WHAT?!

user2: Lando being married was not on my bingo card.

maxverstappen1: My wedding invitation must have been lost in the mail.

⤷ landonorris: Sorry, it was just the two of us.

user3: I'm so happy, you deserve all the love!!!

user4: We have a new WAG, woo-hoo! I already like her. But please yourusername don't make him sleep on the couch 😭

⤷ yourusername: I'll reconsider that decision.

[iid-smile]

handsy , itadori yuji

x gn!reader ! cuddling in the cold, itadori touches your buttocks, he calls you hot, that's it really...

author's note: um i had this idea in my head but i didnt know who to write for also kinda rushed because i cba

"baby..." itadori's voice is severely muffled from his lips being pressed against your neck. "it's cold."

you're both facing each other in bed, his arms securely wrapped around your waist and yours just resting on his chest. though it's september, it's not usual for the temperature to drop in such a sudden way.

it's a weird contrast, the way it's so cold outside while it's so warm under the blanket. it makes you want to shrink further into it, but your boyfriend's presence just makes you a tad more reluctant to even move at all.

with only a small hum coming from you, your fingers fiddle with his hoodie strings. it only takes a short time for him to get sulky when you don't respond with words, so you mumble back. "i know, that's why we're cuddling."

he wiggles his legs a bit, which are already tangled with yours. you were half bracing yourself for him to be cold to the touch, but he's just warm. he's always so warm.. how? "it's colddd..." he complains again.

his arms around you tighten a bit, making it slightly harder to breathe, but you know that he just does it subconsciously. "i want hot chocolate.." he murmurs.

by chance, you manage to pick up on his words, your arms moving to wrap around his neck. "you already had some, yuji." shifting closer, you rest your head close to his. not to close that your cheeks are touching, not too far that you can see each other.

itadori remains silent, a small huff coming from him, like he knows better than to argue with you. he's so clingy. and a baby, sometimes. he's acting like you didn't feed him the most filling dinner ever. his favourite too! and hot chocolate on top of that? he should know that's enough. but that pouting expression gets to your weak heart, so you shift around a bit.

you could hear him softly groan, likely from the way your legs move to intertwine with his more, and the way your body heat is now pushed directly up against his. with ease, he nuzzles his face further into your shoulder, hiding it completely. "mhm..." he hums, and you can feel the vibrations of it against your skin.

your fingers curl around his messy locks, and you admire the seemingly natural pink colour as best you can with the minimal light. "mhm what?" you inquire, confused since you didn't ask him a question.

"nevermind the hot chocolate..." his voice is barely comprehensible. "i got something hot right here."

"...you need to specify."

"i mean it both ways. you're hot, and you're hot."

you can only sigh, rolling your eyes. if you didn't find his stupid comments so adorable, and charming, you would've thrown a pillow at him. but unfortunately since you're cuddling, you just allow the cheesy comments to slip by. like usual.

"i hate you." you mutter.

he only responds with a chuckle. "no, you love me."

"i do..." you sigh again. his arms around you loosen up slightly, and one of his hands starts roaming a little.

it's quiet for a while, after itadori's giddy chuckles of course. despite how dark it is, you struggle to keep your eyes closed, feeling your eyelids shake whenever you try, as if you're tense. the only view you really have is his hair shoved in your face, but either way, you don't mind.

being the handsy guy he is, there's not a single spot where he hasn't touched you. shoulder, back, hips, waist, thighs, everywhere. a little thought in your head was telling you they were destined to end up elsewhere, and you're surprised it hasn't happened yet.

or maybe you spoke too soon.

you can feel both of his hands move down to your behind, holding them there like he would if he was carrying you. in feigned annoyance, your lips purse a bit, not that he'd be able to see it anyway. "that's my butt."

itadori giggles, almost sounding snarky in nature. "mhm. your butt." he gives it a light squeeze in emphasis, before starting to rub it with his thumbs. the action is so simple, yet to you it feels so... intimate, loving. in a way that sends a little heat to your cheeks with a red hue that would definitely be visible.

but of course, you let it slide.

there's a few moments of silence that pass, and you're left almost thinking he fell asleep. but his gentle words soon break it, and his one of his hands finds yours, gripping lightly. "i love you... a lot..." he mumbles again, but the words are a lot more clearer this time, and a lot more sincere. a common practice of his that he does right before he drifts off to sleep.

"i love you too. a lot." you whisper back, shuffling as close as you can get to him.

[pucksandpower]

Bleached

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Charles’ beard has been looking a bit ginger-ish lately … what better place to talk about it than on a podcast?

Warnings: allusion to 18+ themes

“Okay, I have to ask,” the podcaster leans forward, elbows resting on the small round table between them, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. His voice is friendly, but there’s that unmistakable gleam in his eye that says he’s about to drop something that’ll make the interview go viral. “There’s been some ... speculation. About your, uh, change in appearance recently.”

Charles shifts in his seat, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. He’s relaxed, casual in a gray hoodie and jeans, but there’s a slight tension in the way he holds himself, like he’s been waiting for this question to come up. “Speculation? About what?” His tone is playful, teasing almost, though he knows exactly where this is going.

The podcaster chuckles, scratching his beard as he gathers the right words. “Well, I mean … the ginger beard thing. I’ve had a lot of listeners ask about it. A lot of comments, too. They’re all curious. You know, Charles, your beard’s been, uh, dark for as long as we’ve known you, and now …” he gestures towards Charles’ face, where the once dark brown stubble has turned into a mix of auburn and light copper. It’s subtle, but definitely noticeable. “What’s going on there?”

Charles laughs, but there’s a hint of sheepishness in it. He rubs his jaw, as if the act itself will somehow explain the change. “Ah, well,” he begins, and his eyes flicker to the side, as if contemplating whether he should actually say what he’s about to. “It’s kind of funny, actually.”

“Oh, I’m all ears,” the podcaster says, leaning in even more, his grin widening. “I love a good story.”

Charles glances down for a moment, his fingers tracing the outline of the cup of coffee in front of him, before looking back up. “Okay, so … how do I say this?” He pauses, clearly trying to find the right words, and then he laughs again, softer this time, like he’s laughing at himself. “It’s actually because of Y/N.”

The podcaster raises an eyebrow, leaning back slightly in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Charles nods, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It’s … her. I mean, not directly, obviously, but … you know, her ... uh, how do I say this without it sounding ... weird?”

“Hey, man, this is a safe space. You can say whatever you want,” the podcaster says, trying to suppress his amusement. “You’ve got my full attention.”

Charles laughs again, a bit more openly this time. “Okay, well, let’s just say it’s ... the result of certain ... activities between us.” He’s clearly embarrassed but trying to make light of it. “You know, when you, uh, go down on someone, and … yeah.”

The podcaster’s eyes widen in realization, and he bursts out laughing, almost doubling over in his chair. “Wait, wait, wait,” he says between gasps for breath. “You’re telling me … your beard is turning ginger because of … her?”

Charles laughs too, but there’s a hint of a blush on his cheeks. “Yeah, I know, it sounds ridiculous. But, uh, yeah. Apparently, her ... uh, juices are, um, acidic? And they’ve been ... bleaching my beard a bit.”

The podcaster is in stitches, shaking his head in disbelief. “Oh my God, that’s ... I don’t even know what to say. That’s amazing.”

“It’s funny, right?” Charles says, his grin widening as he watches the podcaster struggle to contain his laughter. “I didn’t even notice at first, but then it started getting more obvious, and she was like, ‘Uh, Charles, what’s going on with your beard?’”

The podcaster wipes tears from his eyes, still chuckling. “And what did you say? I mean, how do you even have that conversation?”

Charles shrugs, still smiling. “Well, we just laughed about it. I mean, what else can you do? It’s not like it’s a bad thing. It’s just ... one of those weird, funny things that happens when you’re in a relationship.”

“So, she wasn’t freaked out or anything?”

“No, no, she wasn’t freaked out,” Charles says, shaking his head. “She thought it was hilarious. I mean, we both did. It’s just ... it’s one of those things that makes us, you know, us.”

“Man, that’s ... that’s awesome,” the podcaster says, finally calming down a bit. “You know, I’ve heard of some wild stories on this show, but that ... that’s definitely up there.”

“Yeah, it’s not something you hear about every day,” Charles admits with a laugh.

The podcaster leans in again, his expression still one of amusement but with a hint of curiosity now. “Okay, but seriously ... have you looked into this? Like, the science behind it? I mean, can that really happen?”

Charles nods, his expression turning a bit more serious now. “Yeah, I did actually. It turns out that it’s possible. I mean, the pH of ... you know, down there ... can be slightly acidic, and that can have an effect on hair color, especially if there’s prolonged contact. I’m no scientist, but that’s the gist of it from what I’ve read.”

“Wow,” the podcaster says, clearly impressed. “That’s ... honestly, I didn’t even know that could happen.”

“Yeah, neither did I,” Charles says, grinning. “But here we are.”

The podcaster laughs again, shaking his head in disbelief. “Man, I’ve got to say ... Y/N is one lucky girl. And you ... you must be very enthusiastic about, uh, certain activities.”

Charles laughs, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Well, I mean, when you’re with someone you care about ... you want to make them happy, right?”

“Of course, of course,” the podcaster says, nodding in agreement. “But still ... that’s some dedication, man.”

“Hey, if it makes her happy, I’m happy,” Charles says with a shrug, but there’s a genuine warmth in his voice that makes it clear he means it.

The podcaster smiles, clearly touched by the sentiment. “That’s sweet, Charles. Really sweet. I think a lot of people are going to appreciate hearing that.”

“Yeah, well, I hope so,” Charles says, his smile softening. “I mean, relationships are about give and take, right? You have to be willing to do things for each other, even if it’s something small. It’s those little things that make it special.”

The podcaster nods, his expression turning a bit more serious now as he listens to Charles. “You’re right about that. It’s the little things that count.”

“Exactly,” Charles agrees. “And, you know, if that means I have to deal with a bit of a color change in my beard, well, that’s a small price to pay.”

“Definitely,” the podcaster says with a smile. “So, what’s next for you guys? Any big plans?”

Charles leans back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Honestly, we’re just taking things one day at a time. We’re happy, and that’s what matters. We’re both busy with our careers, but we make time for each other, and that’s important. We’re just ... enjoying being together.”

“That’s great to hear,” the podcaster says, nodding approvingly. “It sounds like you’ve got a good thing going.”

“We do,” Charles says with a smile. “She’s amazing, and I’m lucky to have her.”

The podcaster smiles, clearly touched by the sincerity in Charles’ voice. “Well, I wish you both the best. You seem like a great couple.”

“Thank you,” Charles says, his smile widening. “That means a lot.”

The podcaster grins, clearly pleased with how the interview has gone. “And, uh, just to wrap things up ... any advice for other guys out there? You know, in case they start noticing their beards changing color?”

Charles laughs, shaking his head. “I’d say ... just go with it. Embrace it. It’s a sign that you’re doing something right.”

“Great advice,” the podcaster says with a chuckle. “Well, thanks for sharing that with us, Charles. This has definitely been one of the more ... interesting interviews I’ve done.”

“Happy to be of service,” Charles says with a grin. “Thanks for having me.”

The podcaster smiles, clearly satisfied with the conversation. “Anytime, man. Anytime.”

[hoshifighting]

— Synopsis: After a series of graffiti attacks on your bakery, you find out Jihoon is the vandal behind it, frustrated because your shop's success has outshone his grandma's bakery. — WC: 13k — WARNINGS: enemies to lovers, angst, smut, fluff, physical violence (reader hits jihoon with a mop, vandalism), jealousy, emotional conflict, fingering, blowjob, hair pulling, semi-public sex, cock riding, overwhelming, body fluids (cum), no protection, fetish elements—being painted with grafitty during sex, claiming, mention of an enormous cock on the bakery's wall.

Your arms are crossed in a tight clutch as you stare at the front door of the bakery, the black, fresh tags sprayed across the pastel walls like an ugly bruise. It’s the same crap, just a new day. The pink and white of your shop—the delicate aesthetic that drew people in—was constantly being smeared by some low-life with a spray can. Months of this, and all the cameras ever caught was a faceless guy in a black hoodie. Useless.

With a frustrated sigh, you unlock the door, pushing it open with more force than necessary. The day needed to start, vandalism or not. You open the windows, letting the fresh morning air in. At least the floors were clean, thanks to the obsessive mopping you’d done last night. That had become a habit lately, one of the few things you could control.

You grab a bowl, dumping the ingredients for cake batter in with a bit too much force. Your arm flexes as you whip the fouet through the mix, your irritation guiding every furious stroke. It’s therapeutic, in a way—until Mingyu walks in.

“Are you... trying to murder the batter?” he asks, amusement clear in his voice as he sets his stuff in the locker. “You’re about to crack the bowl in half.”

You glance up, still scowling, but the comment catches you off guard. “Shu’up, Mingyu. You would be mixing like this too if someone graffitied your walls for the hundredth time.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t be so dramatic about it,” he teases, walking over to grab his apron. “It’s just a little paint. You act like the world’s ending.”

“It’s not just paint! It’s every day with this. And it’s not even good graffiti. It’s just some bullshit tags that don’t mean anything.”

Mingyu laughs, shaking his head. “I don’t know, some people might say you’re overthinking it. Maybe the artist is just misunderstood. Maybe there’s a deeper meaning.”

“‘Eat shit’ has no deeper meaning,” you deadpan, pushing the bowl to the side. “And I’ve got a cake due at 3 p.m. Can you please help me with the fondant? I need to leave on time for class.”

“Gastronomy waits for no one,” he quips, moving to help you.

You sigh, rubbing your forehead with the back of your hand. “Exactly. And if I’m late, I’m fucked. So let's get this done.”

Mingyu chuckles, but he gets to work, his hands already busy with rolling out the fondant. “You ever think of just... catching the guy yourself? Stake out the place or something?”

“Yeah, because that’s a great use of my time,” you mutter. “I’ve got school, work, and now this mystery asshole. Besides, what am I supposed to do? Sit outside all night and wait to get jumped?”

“Hey, you might scare him off with your mixing technique alone.”

You snort. “At this point, I’d rather beat him over the head with the bowl.”

— // NEXT DAY // —

You’re bent over the counter, carefully arranging the pies and cupcakes in the vitrine, when the bell above the door jingles. The sound makes you straighten up automatically, pasting on your best “welcome to my bakery” smile.

“Good morning! What can I get you today?” you ask, looking up to see Mrs. Yang, one of your more... particular customers. She smiles politely, her bag clutched in one hand, and takes her time approaching the counter.

“Good morning, dear,” she says, her voice too sweet for whatever she’s about to say next. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about... the situation outside.”

Here we go.

You nod, still smiling like your life depends on it. “Yes, we’ve been dealing with some, uh... graffiti issues lately.”

Her lips purse. “It’s quite the eyesore, don’t you think? Having that sort of thing on the storefront isn’t good for business, especially with such a nice bakery like yours. People might get the wrong impression. I wouldn’t want to bring my friends here if it continues.”

You feel Mingyu’s eyes on you from the back, wide and alarmed like he’s bracing himself for whatever smartass remark is about to leave your mouth. You can almost hear him holding his breath.

But instead of snapping, you swallow it down. Barely.

“I understand, Mrs. Yang. We’re working on getting it removed as soon as possible,” you say, your voice calm and professional, even though your brain is screaming, What the hell do you want me to do? Hand-paint the walls every night?

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll handle it,” she replies with a thin smile, “You always do such a lovely job here. I’ll have two of the lemon tarts, please.”

“Of course,” you say, grabbing the tarts and ringing her up, every muscle in your body tense as you try not to explode. “That’ll be $8.50.”

As she leaves, Mingyu sidles up behind you. “You alright? That looked painful.”

You shoot him a glare. “Shut up before I throw a tart at you.”

He just laughs. “Hey, props for not biting her head off. That’s growth.”

Your day only goes downhill from there.

An order comes in last-minute, right when you're about to head out for a cake delivery, forcing you to juggle too many tasks at once. The fondant on the cake cracks just as you’re trying to finish it, and you nearly drop the entire thing when you’re loading it into the car. By the time you deliver it, you're ten minutes late, and the client is tapping her foot like you ruined her wedding or something.

As you drive away, you notice that some idiot in the parking lot nicked the side of your car with their door. The scrape is fresh, ugly, and just another thing you don’t have time to deal with.

By the time you make it to the university, you’re on edge. Every little thing is pissing you off—the late delivery, the car, Mrs. Yang’s passive-aggressive comments replaying in your head.

You stomp into the classroom, tossing your bag on the desk as you take your seat. Your friend, Jiyeon, looks up from her notes, immediately catching the “I’m about to lose it” vibe radiating from you.

“Woah, woah... Don’t talk to me,” you say, waving her off before she even opens her mouth.

She raises her hands in mock surrender, exasperated. “Okay, okay, damn. I wasn’t even gonna say anything!”

From the corner of your eye, you catch the guy sitting next to you glancing over. He’s half-smirking, like he’s amused by your bad mood. You roll your eyes as you pull your utensils from your bag.

“The hell you lookin’ at?” you snap, not really in the mood for whatever attitude he’s giving you.

He just raises an eyebrow, unfazed. “Nothing. Chill.”

You huff, biting your tongue. “Whatever, man.”

As class starts, you try to focus on the lecture, but it feels like everything is stacking up, one annoying thing after another. You’re counting down the hours until you can get out of here and back to the bakery, where at least you can take your frustrations out on some dough.

[...]

The bakery is finally quiet. You’ve set the doughs to rest for tomorrow, turned off the colorful lights, and now it’s just you, the mop, and the hum of the radio. There’s something peaceful about the dark bakery—like it’s resting, too, after a long, chaotic day. The floor’s slick beneath the mop as you drag it in lazy strokes, the apron around your neck, always too tight, was finally off.

It’s quiet out there too. Rush hour’s over, people are strolling by in pretty scarves, leaving their cubicles for the day. Not that you’d ever want that life. That could never be you—this was your space, your bakery. You’d rather be here, mopping your own floors than stuck in some windowless office.

Even if your apron’s been digging into your neck all damn day. You rub at the sore spot, sighing, when—

Wait.

What the fuck? You squint, eyes narrowing as some guy steps right up to your bakery window, a paint can in hand. You watch in disbelief as he starts spraying. Right on your wall. Again.

You don’t even think. You just move. The front glass door slams open so hard the bell almost flies off, the aggressive clatter echoing behind you as you stomp out, mop still in hand.

“YA! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”

The guy barely turns, but it’s too late. You’re already swinging. The wooden handle of your mop cracks across his back with a satisfying thud, and he lets out this startled grunt, almost tripping over his own feet. You swing again, harder this time, and it echoes across the empty street. Even the homeless guy across the road—the one you always give leftover tarts to—jumps in his spot, startled.

“What the fuck, you asshole! You think this is funny?!” you yell, swinging the mop at him again as he ducks, letting out an “ouch” with each hit. “You keep tagging my walls, and I’m the one paying for this shit! Do you even know how much it costs to get this cleaned? Huh?!”

“Ouch, fuck! Stop, STOP!” he stammers, arms up, trying to shield himself.

You don’t stop. You’re done with this day, done with this week, done with this punk-ass artist ruining your bakery’s vibe. “You piece of shit! You’re dead! I’m gonna shove this can so far up your—”

“What the hell?!” the guy stumbles, trying to dodge your swings, but you’re relentless.

“You think you can just waltz in and spray whatever dumb shit you want? You’re gonna clean this up with your tongue, you little—”

Before you can deliver another hit, the guy turns around, and his hood falls back. Your breath catches.

“Jihoon?!”

The guy grimaces, rubbing his back where you’ve practically beat the soul out of him, but it’s definitely him. The same Jihoon you snapped at in class today, the same Jihoon you barely tolerate during group projects. The fucker who’s been defacing your bakery.

You blink, still holding the mop in a death grip. “So it was you, you fucking idiot?! You’ve been doing this the whole time?!”

He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, still smirking like this is some kind of joke. “Well... I wouldn’t say the whole time.”

“You—” You jab the mop handle at him again, making him flinch. “You’re going to clean this up. I don’t care how. Hell, you can start with your tongue if you’re so attached to your damn art.”

“Woah, woah.” He holds his hands up in surrender, backing up a step. “I didn’t think you’d take it so personally. I mean, it’s just paint.”

“Just paint?” you repeat, incredulous. “I’ve had customers complain, the city’s sent me notices, and you’re out here calling it just paint? Are you fucking insane?”

“Come on, the tags aren’t that bad.”

“Oh, no. They’re shit. Like, the worst shit I’ve ever seen,” you bite out. 

You cross your arms, staring Jihoon down as he leans awkwardly against the wall. 

“You know what? I should call the police on you.”

His eyes go wide, his posture straightening instantly. “No, no, no! Come on, don’t do that!”

You slowly pull your phone from your back pocket, waving it in front of him as you point a finger at his chest. “I think it’s about time you get what’s coming to you.”

Panic flashes across his face, and he lunges forward, trying to grab your phone, but you thrust the mop at his chest, pressing it against him to keep him at bay. “Back off!”

He stumbles back, frowning, his lips jutting out in a sulk. “I don’t wanna go to jail! I don’t wanna sleep in the cold!” His feet stomp on the ground like a child throwing a tantrum, the whole thing looking ridiculous enough that anyone watching might think this was an opening scene from The Office.

You ignore his whining and start dialing, but he won’t shut up. “Please! You can’t let me go to jail over some paint!”

“You should’ve thought about that before tagging my bakery again.” You cut him off, giving him a pointed look. “Why the hell have you been doing this? And don’t think I didn’t notice the enormous dick spray-painted on the back of my shop either.”

Jihoon stays quiet for a moment, avoiding your eyes as he shifts on his feet. His hands fidget with the hem of his sweatshirt, and you narrow your eyes, sensing something off.

“Well? Spit it out,” you demand.

He mumbles something, so low you can barely hear. 

You raise an eyebrow, stepping closer. “What?”

His face goes red, and he mutters again, “Only if... you let me try one of your tarts.”

You blink, leaning in closer. “What was that? Speak up, punk.”

Jihoon sighs, cheeks practically glowing. “I said... I want to try one of your tarts, okay?!”

For a second, you just stare at him, completely dumbfounded. Then, you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Are you serious right now?”

He nods, keeping his head down, looking smaller and more pathetic than you ever imagined he could.

“You’re telling me... you come here, paint my walls like a little delinquent, and now you want a fucking tart? You—”

You breathe in, trying to summon every ounce of patience you have left. The tarts are your best sellers—the buttery crust, fresh fruit, and creamy filling that made your bakery famous not just in the neighborhood but all over town. People raved about them, coming from across the city just to get their hands on one. Hell, students from your college made regular stops just to bring some back to class.

Your shoulders sag in exasperation, but you eventually gesture toward the door. “Fine. Get inside.”

Jihoon looks up, surprised but not daring to push his luck. You flip the lights back on, the bakery coming to life once more. Heading to the back, you grab a fresh tart from the display, muttering curses under your breath as you shout, “Which one do you want?”

“Strawberry!” he calls out.

You grab a pink plate and set the tart delicately in the center, placing it on the counter with one of your signature gold-colored forks and a neatly folded napkin. When you walk over to the table Jihoon picked, nestled in a corner, you notice him glancing around the bakery with a curious expression, taking in the space like he’s never seen it properly before.

He sits down, eyeing the tart suspiciously at first. You cross your arms and sit across from him, your foot bouncing impatiently under the table. You can’t help but suppress an inner smile—every customer had the same reaction to their first bite, and you’re secretly waiting for it.

Jihoon picks up the fork, hesitantly cutting into the tart. As soon as the buttery crust gives way, the scent of fresh strawberries and sweet cream fills the air. He takes a bite, and his eyes widen almost immediately. He chews slowly, like he’s processing the taste, his expression changing from sulky to... amazed.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs under his breath, glancing up at you, eyes wide. “This is... really good.”

You lean back, crossing your arms tighter. “Yeah. That’s what people keep saying.”

He takes another bite, and then another, clearly trying not to devour the whole thing in two seconds. His face softens, the usual smugness gone, replaced by genuine awe. He looks around the bakery again, understanding slowly sinking in. The care you put into every detail—the soft lighting, the warmth, the way the scent of fresh-baked goods fills the air. It’s no wonder other bakeries in the area couldn’t compete.

No wonder people kept coming back.

Jihoon finally looks up, sheepish but impressed. 

You shift in your seat, arms still crossed, and stare at Jihoon as he wipes his mouth with the napkin, setting it down with a quiet sigh. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, his posture heavy with something unsaid.

“So… you gonna tell me why you’ve been punking my bakery?” you ask, your voice less biting than before, though the edge is still there.

Jihoon hesitates, glancing out the window for a moment like he’s trying to gather his thoughts. Finally, he sighs again. “We had a bakery, me and my grandma. It was right across the street.”

You frown, your head tilting slightly as you turn to glance outside through the window. Yeah, you remembered that place. It had that old-school charm, the kind of bakery that felt like a cozy throwback to the 60s, with its wooden benches and rustic signage. It had been there before you moved into the neighborhood. You even remembered the old lady that used to work there, always with a smile, though her hands were slow and her voice even slower. The front of the bakery had been boarded up for months now, closed and forgotten by most.

Jihoon continues, his voice lower. “Before you opened up, we did well. My grandma’s tarts were, like, the thing around here. People came from all over to buy them.” He pauses, and you see his shoulders drop slightly. “But after your tarts took off… we started losing customers. A lot of them.”

You don’t say anything, but the tension in the air thickens. You swallow, suddenly feeling an uncomfortable weight in your chest. You remember seeing them sitting outside their shop, the once-busy bakery now quiet as yours boomed with success.

“We tried to keep up,” Jihoon says, his voice a little shaky. “But no one came in anymore. People stopped buying our stuff. My grandma and I used to just sit there on the bench, watching people line up outside your place while we were lucky to sell a couple tarts.” He laughs, but it’s hollow, like he’s mocking the memory. “She’d pretend it didn’t bother her, but I knew. I knew it killed her inside.”

You feel a knot form in your stomach, guilt creeping in even though you know it wasn’t really your fault. Still, hearing it from him, the weight of their loss, makes you look down at the table, feeling suddenly small.

“What was I supposed to do?” you ask softly, the words barely escaping your mouth. “This was my dream too.”

Jihoon nods, almost like he understands, though there’s still bitterness in his tone. “I know. And it’s not like you did anything wrong. Your bakery is… well, people love it. They loved your tarts. And I guess, after a while, I just got so… mad.”

He looks down at his hands, twisting his fingers together. “We had to close the bakery. We couldn’t keep up. And I started working in the city, doing graffiti, whatever I could to make ends meet.” He shakes his head, laughing without humor again. “And when I saw people still lining up here, day after day, it just… pissed me off. So I started tagging your walls. Stupid, I know.”

You feel a lump in your throat, the weight of his words hitting you harder than you expected. You glance back out the window, seeing the boarded-up bakery in the distance, and it stirs something deep inside. His frustration, his anger… it all makes sense now.

“I didn’t understand,” Jihoon says, his voice softer now, almost defeated. “I couldn’t figure out how your tarts were better than my grandma’s. It didn’t make sense to me. We’d been here for years. How could people just forget about us?” He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck, his expression sad. “But now I get it. I guess… your tarts really are better.”

The way he says it, with that empty laugh, hits you right in the chest. There’s no joy in his voice, no real acceptance, just this sad realization that his family’s legacy had been outdone by you.

You lower your gaze, feeling awful. “Jihoon…” You want to say something, anything, to ease the guilt gnawing at you, but what could you even say? You worked hard for this. It wasn’t like you meant to destroy his bakery. But it’s clear now that, in a way, you did.

“I never meant for this to happen,” you mumble, your voice quieter than you intended. “It’s not like I wanted to take business away from you guys.”

He waves it off, but his eyes don’t meet yours. “I know. It’s just how it worked out. You did what you had to do. I just… I didn’t know what else to do but get mad at you for it.”

The silence between you is thick, heavy with unsaid things. Jihoon keeps his gaze on the table, his fingers playing with the edges of the napkin, while you try to process the weight of everything he just said.

And as much as you want to feel justified—after all, you didn’t do anything wrong—there’s a part of you that can’t shake the sadness settling deep in your chest. You glance out the window again, at the closed shop across the street, and for the first time, you wonder what it must’ve been like for them, watching your bakery rise while theirs fell apart.

Jihoon’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “I don’t know… it’s dumb. You didn’t mean to screw us over. I just… I just miss the way things used to be.”

You breathe in deeply, trying to push down the growing lump in your throat. 

The silence between you two lingers, stretching out like the stillness of the night outside. You can hear the faint hum of the refrigerator behind the counter, the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall. You breathe in, thinking of something to say, and for a moment, Jihoon glances up at you, expectant. But when you close your mouth again, he looks away, fingers fidgeting with the napkin.

Finally, you place your hand on the wooden table between you, the sound of your fingers brushing the grain breaking the silence. "What kind of tarts did your grandma sell?" you ask, voice steady but curious.

Jihoon frowns, clearly taken off guard by the question. "Savory ones," he says after a beat, as if testing the waters of the conversation.

Your brow lifts in surprise. Savory tarts weren’t really your thing—you specialized in the sweet stuff. "Savory?" you lean in a bit, curiosity piqued. "Like what?"

Jihoon seems to hesitate, unsure of where you’re going with this, but then he starts listing them off, voice soft at first but growing stronger. "Palm heart or olives, ham, and cheese, sometimes we’d do quiches with bacon and caramelized onions, even some seasonal ones with pumpkin or sweet potato… Stuff like that."

You sit back, letting the list of flavors settle in your mind, gears turning. You’d never considered offering savory tarts before—your bakery was known for its sweets. But maybe that was part of the problem. There was a whole side of the tart game you hadn’t even touched.

"You think you could make some of those flavors and bring them tomorrow?" you ask, your tone casual as you rest your chin in your hand.

Jihoon frowns deeper, confused, his head tilting to the side. "Yeah, I think so. Why?"

You chew your lip for a second, glancing around your bakery, imagining it filled with the rich, hearty smells of savory tarts instead of the usual sugar and cream. "I was thinking maybe we could try something… an experiment," you say, eyes lighting up as you lean forward. "You bring the savory ones, I’ll sell them in the display, right alongside the sweet ones. See how people like them."

Jihoon blinks at you, processing your words, and for a moment, you see a flicker of disbelief in his eyes, like he can’t quite wrap his head around what you’re suggesting. "You… you wanna sell my grandma’s tarts here?"

You nod, the idea already snowballing in your mind. "Yeah, why not? People around here are crazy for the sweets, but maybe they’ve just never had the chance to try something savory. And you know I don’t do that kind of thing, so… it’d be different." You pause, watching his face, which is slowly starting to shift from confusion to something brighter. "We’ll call it a collab or something. Give them a taste of what your bakery used to offer."

His eyes light up, sparkling with excitement as the idea sinks in. The hesitation that was there before vanishes, replaced with genuine enthusiasm. "Really?" He leans forward, hands gripping the edge of the table. "You think… people would like them?"

"If they’re as good as you say they are," you grin, tapping your fingers on the table, "then yeah, I think they will."

Jihoon’s face softens, and for the first time tonight, a real smile spreads across his lips. It’s small at first, but there’s something genuine and almost childlike about it, like you just handed him a lifeline he wasn’t expecting. "They’re really, really good," he says earnestly, nodding. "My grandma used to get people coming back for them all the time. They were, like, her specialty."

"Then bring enough for tomorrow," you say, feeling a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth despite yourself. "We’ll put them out, see what happens. Maybe it’ll bring some of her old customers back."

He looks at you like you’ve just flipped the entire script on him. The guy who’d been tagging your bakery out of spite now suddenly has a shot at redemption, and it’s written all over his face. You can see the wheels turning in his head, his excitement barely contained.

"How many do you need?" he asks, voice filled with an eagerness you hadn’t seen in him before.

You pause, thinking for a second. "Start small—maybe a couple dozen to test the waters. If they sell out, we’ll know we’re onto something."

Jihoon nods rapidly, his excitement bubbling over. "I can do that. I can bring, like, the spinach and feta ones. Those were super popular. And maybe the mushroom ones too. People loved those." He’s rambling now, his hands gesturing wildly as he talks. "You think they’ll like them? I mean, people around here are kinda obsessed with sweet stuff, but these… these are different."

You laugh softly, watching him get more and more animated. "I think if they’re as good as you say, people are gonna be lining up for them. And who knows? Maybe savory tarts will be the next big thing."

Jihoon sits back, grinning like he can’t believe this is real. "I can’t believe you’re actually doing this." His eyes flicker over the bakery, taking in the pink and white décor, the polished countertops, the faint smell of sugar still lingering in the air. "I thought you’d just tell me to fuck off, honestly."

You shrug, smiling slightly. "Well, I did wanna hit you with a mop earlier. But… I don’t know. It seems like the least I can do after everything."

He stares at you, his grin softening into something more serious, more genuine. "Thanks," he says quietly, and you can tell that he means it. "I… I really judged you wrong."

You wave him off, but inside, there’s a warmth spreading, something that feels almost like… relief? Like maybe this little experiment could be more than just business—it could be a way to right some wrongs.

"Just bring your best game tomorrow," you say, standing up from the table. "If your grandma’s tarts are half as good as you say, I’m sure people will love them."

Jihoon stands too, still grinning like a kid on Christmas. "Oh, they will. Trust me." His eyes sparkle with that confidence again, and for the first time, it feels like you’re seeing the real him, not the guy who’s been tagging your bakery out of anger.

As you walk him to the door, you glance back at the kitchen, already imagining the savory tarts lining the shelves next to your usual sweets. This could be something big, something new—something that might even help mend the bridge between you two.

Jihoon pauses at the door, turning back to you with a grin. "Tomorrow, then. You won’t regret this."

The next morning, Jihoon arrives at your bakery with a box, the warmth of the tarts and quiches radiating from inside. You grin as you lift the lid, the smellof the buttery crust wafting out. Carefully, you place them in the display, arranging them neatly beside your sweets.

Jihoon moves towards the door without saying a word, but before he can leave, you raise your voice, “Where are you going?”

He pauses and steps back in, bending down to pick up a bucket of paint remover and a brush from outside. “Gonna get rid of the mess,” he says with a shrug, shaking the supplies in his hand.

You scoff, leaning against the counter. “Looks like hitting you with the mop actually worked.” You raise an eyebrow, arms crossed.

He freezes, his eyes widening a little, like he just remembered something. “Hey! You!” he protests, gesturing to his back. “I’m my back its black and blue thanks to you! My back its ruined.”

You roll your eyes, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Serves you right,” you shoot back, and Jihoon huffs, but there’s a playful glint in his eyes as he heads outside to scrub off the tags.

As the morning rush starts, a couple of your regulars approach the counter, eyeing the new items. One of them, Mrs. Park, furrows her brow. "What’s all this?" she asks, nodding to the savory tarts.

You flash her a smile, "We’re doing a little collab with Jihoon’s family bakery. They used to sell these savory tarts, and we thought we'd give them a try here. You should taste them, they’re amazing."

Mrs. Park raises an eyebrow but picks up one of the tarts anyway. Within minutes, word spreads, and before you know it, the dozen savory tarts you put out are gone—people even leaving with extras for home. You lean against the counter, watching the buzz, satisfaction building in your chest.

As the rush dies down, you step outside where Jihoon is wiping down the wall, now tag-free. You smirk. "Sold everything," you say, watching his reaction.

His eyebrows shoot up, eyes wide. “Really?!”

You nod. “Yeah, they went faster than I thought. Even Mingyu couldn’t keep his hands off them,” you say, pointing through the window where Mingyu is, mid-bite, munching happily on a tart behind the counter.

Jihoon laughs, shaking his head as he looks at Mingyu, then back at you. "I’ve got more ready at my grandma’s place. I can go grab them now."

"Do it," you say with a grin, waving him off. “Bring a lot. I don’t think these’ll last long.”

An hour later, Jihoon returns, but this time he’s not alone. His grandma, the sweet old lady you remember from the bakery across the street, is with him. You light up when you see her.

"Mrs. Lee!" you greet her warmly. 

She smiles, her eyes crinkling as she gives you a gentle hug. "You’ve done so well with this place," she says, looking around the bakery.

As you help unload the box of fresh tarts, you see Mingyu’s eyes widen as he watches you set them out again, his mouth practically watering. He reaches for one, but you swat his hand away.

"Those are to sell," you scold playfully, but before you can follow up, Mrs. Lee reaches up and pats Mingyu on the head.

"Eat, eat, you’re a big boy. You need it," she says, and Mingyu, towering over her, grins sheepishly as he lowers his head.

"Yes, ma’am," he says with a boyish smile, clearly charmed.

With the tarts restocked, the afternoon turns out to be just as busy as the morning. People are coming in and out, curious about the new savory options, and before you know it, they’re sold out again.

After the rush dies down and the shift ends, you pull out the cash notes, counting how much you’ve made for the day. You walk over to Jihoon, handing him a stack of money.

"Here, this is how much we sold, minus the cost of ingredients," you say, but Jihoon waves his hand, shaking his head.

"Nah, don’t do that," he says, clearly uncomfortable. "It’s your bakery. I’m just helping out."

You raise an eyebrow, folding your arms. "You think I’m not gonna pay you for your grandma’s recipes? Don’t be stupid."

He fidgets, glancing down. “I don’t deserve it,” he mumbles, but you cut him off.

"Come on. You think of reopening your grandma’s bakery again?"

He hesitates, then nods slowly. "I’ve been thinking about it. But there’s a lot to clean up, fix…"

You lean back, thinking for a moment. “Well, while you figure it out, how about you use my bakery to sell your savory stuff? We can split the profits and see how it goes. Maybe that way, you’ll get enough to fix it.”

Jihoon’s eyes widen, gratitude spreading across his face. "You… you’d let me do that?"

You shrug. "Why not? People love your stuff, and I’ve got space. Plus, this way, we both win."

His lips part, disbelief still etched on his face, but then his shoulders relax, and a small smile forms. "I don’t know what to say. Thank you."

"Don’t thank me yet," you say, grinning. "We still gotta get through tomorrow."

He laughs, the tension that had been hanging between you since the whole graffiti incident finally easing. "I guess I’ll be back here early with more tarts, then."

"Bright and early," you reply, with a playful nod. "And don’t forget to bring your grandma too. Mingyu might cry if she doesn’t show up."

Jihoon chuckles, glancing at Mingyu who’s in the back, still wiping tart crumbs from his face. "I think you’re right about that."

As Jihoon and his grandma leave, you’re left standing in your bakery, the warm glow of the lights reflecting off the now pristine windows. 

The next morning, Jihoon shows up right on time, his grandma’s small hand wrapped around his arm as they step into the bakery. There’s something heartwarming about the sight—the way she leans on him, and how he effortlessly balances the heavy box of tarts in his other hand. You catch a glimpse of the pure affection between them, the kind only grandparents seem to have for their grandkids, and it makes you feel... softer.

Jihoon flashes you a quick, almost shy smile as he sets the box on the counter, the warmth of the freshly baked tarts instantly filling the room. You move to help him, opening the glass case of the vitrine. As you lean in to arrange the tarts, his arm brushes against yours, just barely. It’s nothing, really—just a quick touch—but you bite back a smile anyway. The warmth of it, the quiet ease, feels nice. Comfortable.

Outside, the rain begins to pour, pattering against the windows. It's not the gloomy kind of rain, though—it’s the kind that makes people crave warm spaces, a place to settle into with a coffee in hand. Your bakery, with its soft yellow lighting and the sweet smell of tarts mingling in the air, feels like the perfect refuge. You can already see a few people huddling under umbrellas as they make their way inside, the little bell above the door chiming each time.

Jihoon steps back, his eyes following yours as you arrange the tarts in perfect rows. “Looks good,” he murmurs, glancing over at you.

“Yeah,” you agree, trying to sound casual, though your voice is a bit quieter than usual. You clear your throat. “Rain’s gonna bring people in. They’ll want something warm.”

Almost as if on cue, the door swings open with a gust of wet air, and your best friend stumbles inside, panting, her umbrella flung into the holder by the door. She shakes the rain off her coat and makes a beeline for the counter, eyes wide.

“I heard you’re selling savory tarts now,” she exclaims, nearly breathless.

You shoot her a look, half-amused. “Word spreads fast around here, hm?”

She leans on the counter, eyes scanning the new additions in the vitrine like she’s sizing them up. “You know me. I’ve got my ear to the ground,” she says, grinning. Her gaze shifts to Jihoon, who’s still standing behind you. “And you,” she says, her tone turning teasing, “finally decided to be useful, huh?”

Jihoon just rolls his eyes, but you can see a flicker of amusement there. “I’m useful in ways you don’t even know,” he mutters under his breath, barely loud enough for you to hear, but it makes you smirk.

Your friend raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sure,” she quips, pulling out her wallet. “Alright, give me one of those tarts. Let’s see if they’re worth the hype.”

You grab a tart—spinach and cheese, her favorite—and hand it to her on a small plate. She takes one bite, her eyes widening dramatically. “Oh my god,” she says, mouth half full. “Okay, this… this is dangerous. You can’t sell these, I’ll be here every day.”

You laugh, watching her devour the tart. Jihoon leans against the counter next to you, arms crossed, a little smug. “Told you they were good,” he murmurs.

The steady rain outside only adds to the cozy vibe, making the bakery feel like a warm little haven. More customers trickle in, shaking off their umbrellas and ordering coffees to go with the new savory tarts. Some regulars ask about the new addition, and you tell them about the collaboration with Jihoon and his grandma. It’s casual, like you’re letting them in on a little secret, and soon enough, people are lining up to try them.

As you work, you can feel Jihoon’s presence behind you, quietly helping out where he can—refilling the display, wiping down tables, clearing plates. It’s kind of funny, actually. Not long ago, this same guy was spray-painting the walls of your bakery like a punk, and now here he is, setting tarts in your vitrine, his arm brushing against yours, acting like part of the team.

Your friend finishes her tart and slides the plate back toward you, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Okay, I gotta go before I eat the whole case,” she says, shooting you a wink. She glances at Jihoon as she grabs her umbrella. “You better keep bringing these, or we’ll have problems.”

Jihoon smirks, giving her a mock salute. “I’ll keep ‘em coming.”

As she leaves, you watch the bakery fill with warmth, laughter, and the soft hum of conversations. The rain taps against the windows, the outside world grey and wet, while the inside is alive with comfort. You lean against the counter, watching Jihoon’s grandma chatting with a customer. It’s kind of perfect, in a way—everything just falling into place.

After the lunch rush, Jihoon catches your eye, his expression a little sheepish. "They’re really selling, huh?"

You smile, a little proud. "Yeah. Told you they’d be a hit."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Guess I underestimated this place."

“It’s kinda nice having you around... even if you are a pain in the ass.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes but not disagreeing. “You just like bossing me around.”

“I do,” you admit with a grin. “And you’re getting pretty good at following orders.”

Jihoon laughs, shaking his head as he picks up a rag to wipe down the counter. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll bring more tomorrow."

The evening was quiet, just the hum of the fridge and the faint swoosh of the mop gliding across the floor. You were halfway through cleaning when your foot nudged something under the counter. Frowning, you crouched down and pulled out a box—heavy, clinking inside—and when you opened it, there they were. Paint cans.

You tilted your head, staring at them, then shouted, "Jihoon! What the hell is this?"

He popped out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “Uh... well, I was thinking... maybe the bakery could use a little—art,” he said hesitantly, his eyes darting from the cans to you.

"Art?" you raised an eyebrow, hands resting on your hips. "You're not gonna draw a dick on the front door, are you? 'Cause if that's your plan, Jihoon, I swear—"

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “No! It wasn’t me, alright? That was one of my friends.”

Your eyebrow shot up even higher. "So you had your friends tag my bakery too?"

He suppressed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I yelled sorry, like, a million times already.”

You shook your head, though a small smile tugged at your lips. “Unbelievable.”

Jihoon stepped closer, eyes scanning your expression carefully. “Look, I promise—no dicks. I was thinking... something different. Something that matches the vibe here. I could paint something... that looks like you.” His gaze lingered on you, analyzing your features like he was already sketching you out in his mind.

You sat back, considering it. The idea of graffiti on your pristine bakery wasn’t exactly appealing, but there was something about Jihoon’s offer... the way he was looking at you, not like a cocky vandal but like someone who wanted to create something for you.

You frowned, arms crossed, skeptical. “You? Graffiti something that looks like me? You’re kidding.”

He shrugged, stepping back slightly. “Let me show you. I’ll do it on the back wall. Something pastel, something sweet—like your bakery.”

You huffed, but curiosity got the better of you. “Fine. But if it looks like shit, you’re cleaning it up, Jihoon.”

Outside, the air was crisp, and the dim lights of the street barely reached the back alley behind your bakery. Jihoon grabbed the cans, setting them down with a focused energy, his jaw tight. He was different when he worked on something—serious, quiet. You watched as he started to shake one of the cans, the metallic rattle filling the space. 

He started to sweat after a few strokes of the spray, his arm flexing each time he pressed the nozzle. The light from the back door illuminated his face, and when he flicked his hair to the side, it reminded you of those boys from high school, the ones who all had that Justin Bieber haircut. You couldn’t help but smirk at the thought.

He stepped back, turning toward you, his eyes searching your face. “So... what do you think?”

You tilted your head, focusing on the paint. It was a pastel-colored slice of cake, detailed with delicate swirls and shadows that made it look almost real. “The... strawberry looks a little weird,” you pointed out, walking closer.

Jihoon let out a soft laugh, stepping aside. “Come help me then. You fix it.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. "Me? I don’t know how to spray paint, Jihoon. It’s gonna look like a five-year-old did it."

He waved it off, walking toward you with the can in hand. “Nah, you can do it. C’mere.”

Before you could protest, he was already pulling you out of the chair, placing the can in your hand. “Just like this,” he murmured, stepping behind you. His chest pressed lightly against your back, close enough that you could feel his breath on your ear. His hand moved to yours, guiding your fingers to press down on the nozzle, and the paint sprayed out in a clean line. "Here," he murmured, his voice low. "Press gently... just like that."

“See?” he whispered, his voice right in your ear, and you could feel the concentration in his breath, how calm it was. “Not so hard, is it?”

You were too aware of everything—his breath, his hand on yours, the way his body pressed just slightly against yours, not enough to feel too much, but enough to make your pulse pick up.

His hand, now on your waist, gave you the faintest squeeze, right where your skin showed between your top and your jeans, right where your shirt had ridden up a little. It was an absent touch, almost like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. But you did. His fingers were warm, the pressure light but there. Your breath caught in your throat for a second.

You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. His hand never moved, just stayed resting on your waist, a quiet but steady reminder of how close he was. The paint kept flowing, and you realized you were barely focused on the mural anymore. It was all Jihoon. The way his body moved with yours, the brush of his breath against your ear.

“Jihoon,” you whispered, voice low, just to see what kind of reaction you’d get. "You sure you're not just getting handsy with me to avoid doing the work?"

He huffed a small laugh, right in your ear, his breath warm. “You think this is me being handsy? I’m just trying to teach you something.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back a little more, just enough to feel him tense up. His hips were snug against yours, and you could feel the smallest reaction in his body, the way his chest rose sharply as you pressed back into him.

"Uh-huh,” you said, feigning innocence. “So that’s why you sound like you’re having the best time of your life right now? Not exactly subtle, Jihoon.”

He scoffed, his mouth so close to your ear that you flinched a bit. "Says the one who's shivering under my arm like I’m doing more than just helping you paint.”

You let out a soft chuckle, your head leaning back just a little, the movement making his face brush against your shoulder. You could feel his breath catch again as your body pressed back.

“Jihoon…” you said, voice dropping an octave. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying real hard not to moan in my ear.”

His breath hitched, and this time, you felt it. His body tensed, the can in his hand wavering slightly as he pressed the nozzle. He was trying—trying so damn hard to stay focused on the paint, but your words were getting to him. His grip tightened on the can.

He lowered your arm, stopping the spray of paint, and you could feel the tension crackling between you both. His hand lingered on yours for a moment, and then he turned his head slightly, his lips brushing the edge of your jaw as he whispered, “You keep teasing me like that, I’ll forget the painting and pin you to this wall.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the low rumble in his voice, letting your ass push against him again. You give him a slow, teasing smile, turning your head just enough to look at him out of the corner of your eye. “And if I told you I wouldn’t mind?”

Jihoon’s eyes flicked down to your lips, then back to your eyes, in a blink, he turned you around, the paint can clattering to the floor as his hand slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him.

His lips hovered over yours for just a second, his breath mingling with yours, tension thick in the air. “You're playing with fire, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

You smirked, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the heat of him through his shirt. “Then burn me.”

His lips crashed against yours in a starved kiss, his hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you closer, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, his body pressed so close it felt like there wasn’t an inch between you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him down harder into the kiss, feeling the tension melt away from his shoulders. His hands roamed over your back, slipping under your shirt, his touch burning your skin as he kissed you deeper, rougher, like he couldn’t get enough. 

His body pressed you against the wall, his hips fitting perfectly against yours, and you could feel his cock coming to life. The slight tremor in his hands as they roamed your sides, the way his breath hitched when you kissed him harder—it was all there, barely restrained.

His lips were warm, tasting faintly like the strawberries and honey from earlier, and every time you tried to pull back for air, he chased you, his lips crashing back against yours like he couldn’t stand the space between you for even a second. 

Finally, when you both pulled away for breath, your foreheads resting together, you smirked, your breath still uneven. “You okay there, Jihoon? You look like you’re about to lose it.”

He chuckled, his hand still gripping your waist, but there was no humor in his eyes. “You talk too much,” he muttered, pulling you back in for another kiss before you could even think of another comeback.

You could feel the wetness of his tongue against yours, slick with saliva that started to pool at the corners of your mouth as you sucked it in deeper. Jihoon’s hand was firm, gripping the curve of your ass, his other arm wrapped tight around your waist as if he couldn’t let go even if he tried.

You stumbled backward in a tangle of steps, the two of you moving like you were magnetized to each other, lips fused together, completely unwilling to separate. His hand squeezed your ass hard, making you gasp into his mouth. That sound—the desperate little moan you couldn’t hold back—had him groaning too, swallowing the noise like it fueled him, pressing you harder against the door to the back of the store.

Jihoon fumbled for the handle, blindly opening it while keeping his mouth glued to yours. You barely noticed when he shoved you through the threshold, into the bakery’s quiet salon. He didn’t break the kiss, not even for a second, not until your back hit the counter and he pressed himself against you again, trapping you between him and the cold wood.

You were breathless, desperate to kiss him harder, to get more of those sweet, low moans he made when your lips connected just right. It wasn’t until you felt his hand slipping between you that you realized what he was doing. Somehow, in the heat of it all, he had already undone your jeans, his fingers deftly sliding the button free, his hand dipping lower, teasing the waistband of your panties.

"Fuck, Jihoon," you panted, head thrown back as his lips trailed along your jaw. You shivered when you felt his hand slipping under the lace, fingers ghosting over the sensitive skin. You felt your sink boiling, the warm air from the bakery making you sweat down your neck. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he murmured, more like moaning. 

The jeans you still had on were tight, too tight, and it made it impossible for you to spread your legs the way you wanted. The friction of his hand between you was good, but not nearly enough.

You shifted against him, trying to spread your legs wider, your breath coming out in frustrated little pants. "Jihoon," you managed, voice almost pleading, "jeans... get them off."

His lips curled into a smug grin against your skin, and you could feel him smirk before he pulled back slightly. "So bossy," he murmured, but he didn’t hesitate. His hands went straight to your jeans, tugging them down with quick, rough movements, the denim catching awkwardly on your thighs before he yanked them free.

With your jeans finally gone, he spread your legs wide, his eyes dark and hungry as they trailed over you. His hands gripped your thighs, positioning you exactly how he wanted before slipping his fingers right back under the waistband of your panties, but this time, there was no hesitation.

He slid one finger through your slick folds, groaning low when he felt how wet you were for him. "God, you're soaked," he breathed, almost like he was in disbelief. His thumb found your clit, rubbing slow circles that had your hips bucking against his hand, desperate for more.

You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your lips. "Just... please, Jihoon—more."

He slid a finger inside you, the sensation making you gasp, your legs instinctively spreading wider for him. You wanted more of him, needed it, and when he curled his finger just right—not even forcing it, he felt the spongy spot, you couldn’t stop the moan that tore from your throat.

"Like that?" he whispered, voice hoarse as he added another finger, filling you up and making your whole body arch into him. His other hand gripped your thigh, holding you steady as he worked his fingers inside you, each thrust deeper, more insistent.

"Fuck, yes," you gasped, barely able to form words as he sped up, his thumb still rubbing circles over your clit, making you see fireballs with closed eyes. "Just... just like that."

His hand moved faster, fingers curling and stroking deep inside you, the wet sounds of your arousal filling the quiet room. Your hips bucked against him, chasing the sensation, wanting him to take you higher, needing him to push you over the edge.

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear, his breath hot as he whispered, "I could do this all night... but I think you want me to make you come, don’t you?"

You whimpered. "Please, Jihoon," you breathed, voice shaky. "I need it."

His fingers quickened their pace, thrusting deep, hitting that spot over and over until your whole body trembled. He could feel how close you were, could see it in the way your thighs quivered, the way your breath came in short, desperate gasps.

"Cum for me," he murmured, thumb pressing harder against your clit, feeling the nerve throb as his fingers worked inside you. "Cum all over my fingers."

You rest your elbow on the counter, arching your back in a way that makes the slick sound between your thighs almost obscene. It’s impossible to ignore. You know exactly how wet you are, and palm, right there pressing down the mound of your pussy—god, you can feel it, burning hot. Your breath hitches, and you throw a hazy glance in his direction, catching his smirk, that cocky look on his face. His lip is trapped between his teeth, eyes dark and full of heat, and that’s all it takes before you come apart.

Your orgasm hits hard, ripping through you. Eyes squeezing shut, your body tenses, thighs trembling as your hips jerk involuntarily against his hand. You hear him coaxing you through it, his voice a low murmur, his fingers keeping steady pressure, coaxing every last wave of pleasure out of you.

“There you go… good fuckin' girl. Just like that, keep comin’ for me… shit, so fuckin’ good,” he mutters, fingers slowing just enough to keep you riding the high.

Your chest heaves, your breaths coming in short, ragged bursts as you slowly open your eyes again. He’s staring at you—taking in every inch of you. The smirk on his face hasn't faltered, only deepened. There’s something dangerous about the way he looks at you, like he's already planning his next move.

“You think you can turn around for me?” he asks.

You shake your head, still catching your breath, but a wicked grin spreads on your lips. “Nah. I’ll fall to my knees and suck you off instead.” Your voice is steady despite the way your legs still tremble. His eyes widen just for a second before he sharpens a breath, a harsh inhale that lets you know you’ve hit the right nerve.

You don’t give him time to respond before you’re on your knees, fingers already undoing his belt, pulling his jeans down just enough to free him. You look up through your lashes, watching his jaw tighten as his cock springs free, already hard and leaking at the tip. His breathing’s heavy, uneven.

You run your tongue along his length slowly, collecting the sticky precum, teasing the underside before wrapping your lips around the head. He moans immediately, one hand gripping the edge of the counter so tight his knuckles turn white.

“Fuck,” he hisses through his teeth, hips jerking forward as your lips slide further down his cock. The sound he makes is a whiny moan, almost of frustration as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks. You can feel the pulse of him on your tongue, the way his body reacts to every little move you make.

He grips your hair, tugging gently as you bob your head, setting a slow rhythm that has him panting. His hips start to move, barely restrained, thrusting shallowly into your mouth. “Goddamn… ngh—fuck! From hittin’ me with a mop to this?” His voice cracks on a laugh, but it’s breathless, shaky. “Didn’t think you’d… suck me off like this…”

You pull back just enough to swirl your tongue around the head, lips slick, before looking up at him, smirking. “Better than the mop, right?”

His laugh turns into a groan, the sound vibrating through his chest as you take him deep again. “Fuck yeah… way better than the fuckin' mop.” He’s losing his composure now, hips moving a little more desperately, the hand in your hair tightening, guiding you as you work him harder, faster.

His moans grow louder, less restrained, and you can feel the tension building in his body, the way his muscles tighten as he gets closer. You hollow your cheeks one last time, sucking him in deeper, tongue working every inch of him until you hear him curse under his breath, his head falling back as his body shudders.

“Shit—” His moan is drawn out, almost too much for him to handle, as he loses himself in your mouth, his hips bucking forward uncontrollably. You keep going, pushing him right to the edge, savoring every last sound he makes until he finally pulls you off, breathless and wrecked.

“Fuck... you’re gonna kill me with that pretty mouth,” he pants, grinning down at you, still catching his breath. 

You pull back for a second, lips slick with spit, catching your breath before you go back in, this time with a wicked grin. His cock twitches in your hand as you stroke him slowly, teasing, just enough to keep him on the edge.

“So…” you start, voice low, looking up at him with a dangerous gleam in your eyes. “How are you gonna fuck me, huh? Gonna be good to me, or…” You drag your tongue along the underside of his shaft, making him gasp before taking him back into your mouth, sucking harder, wanting to hear him stutter. “… or you gonna fuck me like you mean it?”

His breath hitches, and he swears under his breath. “I—fuck, I—” His hips jerking toward your mouth, but he’s not quite there. The pressure is building, you can feel it, the way his muscles tense, the way his grip in your hair tightens.

But before you can push him too far, he suddenly pulls you off with a gasp, his cock red and leaking at the tip, his body shaking from the almost-orgasm. “Stop, stop, fuck—”

You raise an eyebrow, lips swollen as you sit back on your heels, panting, teasing. “Could’ve just let me finish you off,” you murmur, licking your lips slowly as you watch him struggle to catch his breath.

He grins, though his expression is tight, like he’s holding onto control by a thread. “Not gonna let you win that easy,” he mutters. He helps you up, hands firm but delicate as he lifts you to your feet. Your knees wobble a little from the discomfort of kneeling on the hard wooden floor, and he notices, his thumb brushing gently across the soft skin.

“They hurt?” he asks, glancing down at your knees, frowning just a little.

You shake your head, smirking. “I’ll live. But you owe me a good fuck for that.”

“Don’t worry. I’m gonna make it up to you.”

You let him guide you back against the counter, his hands already sliding down to the waistband of your panties, hooking his fingers into the fabric and pulling them down tossing it on the floor. He pauses just for a second, eyes flicking between your bare pussy and your face, his breathing heavy.

He leans in close, lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Gonna make you scream.”

You shiver, feeling his cock press against your thigh as his hands move to grip your waist. His fingers are rough, impatient. You can barely think straight when he turns you around, pushing your chest flat against the cold countertop. The contrast of the cool surface and his hot skin makes your breath hitch, your body already aching for him.

He groans softly, positioning himself at your entrance, teasing you with the tip of his cock, rubbing it along your slick folds as you grind back against him, impatient.

“Fuck—please, just—” You barely get the words out before he thrusts into you, filling you up completely in one swift movement. The stretch is intense, but it’s exactly what you needed, the delicious burn making you gasp as your fingers dig into the counter.

He groans, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pulls back and thrusts again, setting a relentless pace. “That good enough for you, hm?”

You can barely answer, the only sounds leaving your lips are desperate moans as he fucks into you, hard and fast, just like he promised. “F-fuck, Jihoon… yes—just like that.”

He leans down, his chest pressing against your back as his lips brush your ear. “You feel so fuckin’ good… so tight, fuck.” 

Your body trembles under his, the pleasure building so quickly that you can barely keep up. "Jihoon—" His name leaves your lips in a broken moan as you start to lose control.

Your breath is ragged, chest heaving as you lick your fingers, letting them trail down your slick body. The moment your fingers find your clit, Jihoon freezes. His cock still buried deep inside you, but it’s like he's hypnotized by the way you touch yourself. You know he’s watching, eyes dark with hunger as you start to circle your clit, finding that perfect rhythm that makes your legs weak. There’s something so intoxicating about him just watching you, letting you take control of your own pleasure while he stays inside, keeping you full.

"Fuck, that’s hot," he mutters, his voice husky and rough as he leans over you, his lips grazing your ear. "You look so fucking good like this."

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, his words fueling the fire burning low in your belly. Your mind flashes back to everything between you two, from the first time he tagged your bakery walls, scowling like you were the enemy, graffiti cans in his bag, the way he barely looked at you when he spoke. 

Now look at him, look at you—sweat-slicked bodies moving together, his fingers pulling your hair. The teasing exchanges that turned into this—tangled limbs in the very place you swore you'd kill him if he ever touched.  Now, all you can think about is how good he feels inside you, how much you crave more.

His hips start to move again, slow, smooth rolls that make your whole body tingle, but he keeps his hands steady on your hips, letting you keep that perfect rhythm on your clit. The sound of your wet fingers moving in time with his thrusts fills the room, and it’s obscene, but fuck, it’s so good.

“What do you want me to do?” he murmurs against your ear, his voice vibrating through you, sending shivers down your spine.

God. Hot. So fucking hot.

You could ask for anything. Him fucking you against every surface in the bakery, bending you over the counter, the tables, hell, maybe even hanging from the goddamn chandelier if it were possible. But right now, with the way his cock fills you and your fingers work your clit, you only want one thing.

“Pull my hair.”

His hand slides up your back, fingers tangling in your hair, and he gives it a firm tug. The sharp pleasure shoots you, and your body arches against him, hips pressing back to meet his next thrust. The way body rollsl, smooth, matches the pace you’ve set with your fingers. It’s perfect, it’s so fucking good.

His hips snap against you harder now, and you can feel his restraint slipping. He’s getting close, the way his moans get rougher, the way he’s tugging your hair a little more desperately. You know he’s just as on edge as you are.

“Jihoon…”

He moans sly. He knows exactly what he's doing to you.

You hum, breathless. Something so ridiculous comes to mind, and you can’t believe you’re going to say it, but fuck it. 

“Can you… paint me?” You’re not sure where the words come from, but once they’re out, you can’t help but smirk.

He hesitates for a second, his hips stuttering before he recovers. “What?”

You bite your lip, half-laughing through your moans. “You heard me. Paint me. Grafitti me. Whatever. Do it.”

He’s still chuckling, his chest pressed against your back as he slows down, but you can feel the horniness in the way his cock twitches inside you. He is very into it. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?”

You laugh, but it’s breathless. “You’ve been tagging my bakery for weeks. Might as well make it official.”

He groans, biting his lip as he slides out of you for a moment, leaving you feeling suddenly empty, needy. You turn your head, watching as he reaches for one of the paint cans you knocked over earlier, shaking it a few times. The sound of the metal ball rattling inside echoes through the small space, making your heart race faster.

“You sure about this?” he asks, but there’s a grin on his face, his cock still hard and wet, glistening in the dim light.

You arch your back, pushing your ass out toward him, wiggling a little for good measure. “You scared?”

He shakes his head, biting down on his lower lip. “Not even a little.”

Then, with one hand steady on your lower back, he leans in, the cold metal of the spray can grazing your skin. You hear the hiss of the paint as he presses down on the nozzle, feeling the cold spray hit your skin. It’s not the same as the heat between your legs, but it sends a thrill through your body nonetheless.

“Hold still,” he mutters, focused, but you can hear the grin in his voice. He’s enjoying this—maybe a little too much.

You laugh, a shaky sound as the paint settles on your skin, the smell of it filling the room. “What are you even writing?”

“You’ll see,” he says, voice teasing. The spray continues, and then, after a moment, he steps back. “There. Perfect.”

When he’s done, he pulls you back onto his cock all in once, making you gasp as the pleasure returns full force. “Red suits you,” he says, his voice whiny. You can feel his eyes on you, taking in the sight of you painted, fucked, completely his in this moment.

You look over your shoulder at him, breathless. “What did you write?”

He smirks, thrusting hard enough to make you cry out. “My name,” he says simply. “Right across your ass.”

The sound that leaves your throat is half-laugh, half-moan. “Cocky bastard,” you mutter, but you can’t deny how fucking hot it is, the thought of his name on you, like a claim.

He watches the paint dry quickly, the faint sheen of it on your skin as you move against him. The thought of cleaning it off flickers in his mind, but fuck, the idea of you walking around with his name stamped across your ass, hidden inside your jeans as you go about your day—a part of him wants it permanent, a tattoo maybe, to mark you in a way no one else could see but him. His. Completely.

His hand slides up your body, fingers sneaking under your shirt and bra until they’re squeezing your tit, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you yelp and splatter your hand onto the counter for balance. Your legs are shaking as his thrusts get rougher, messier, the slick sound of him filling you echoing in the quiet bakery.

You moan out his name, “Jihoonie…” and he fucking loses it. Every time you call him that, it gets to him. The way you say it, needy and teasing, like it was meant to wreck him.

He grunts in response, pulling your hair again to tilt your head back against his chest. Your eyes roll, pleasure coursing through you like fire, and your pussy clenches tight around his cock, sucking him in deeper.

You try to hold yourself up, but your legs are jelly, barely able to stand. “I’m gonna… fuck, Jihoon,” you gasp, your body trembling. You’re on the edge, the pleasure coiling tight in your belly, ready to snap at any second.

He pulls you back harder, his chest flush against your back, his mouth right at your ear as he growls, “Cum for me, baby. Fuckin’ do it. I wanna feel you.”

His words, the rough sound of his voice, the way he’s completely owning you—it pushes you over the edge. You shatter around him, your body convulsing as your orgasm slams into you. Your pussy clenches tight, milking his cock, and you scream his name, your voice echoing through the empty bakery.

He groans deep in his chest, thrusting through your orgasm, chasing his own orgasm. The way you squeeze him, the way you moan and tremble in his arms, it’s too much. He pulls out at the last second, just barely, his hand jerking his cock as he cums, thick ropes spilling onto your ass, painting over his name in red.

You’re a mess, both of you—paint, cum, sweat sticking to your skin—but you can’t bring yourself to care.

His hand slides gently down your back, soothing the tremors that still ripple through your body. “Fuck,” he mutters, voice still shaky. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck, completely different from how rough he was just moments ago.

You breathe out a laugh, still catching your breath. “Think we’re gonna need more than a mop to clean this up.”

Jihoon chuckles, pulling back slightly to admire the mess he made. “Yeah,” he says, “But I gotta say… seeing you with my name on your ass? Kinda want it permanent.”

You tilt your head back to look at him, a lazy smirk on your lips. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

His smirk matches yours as he tugs you closer, his hands still resting on your hips. “Maybe,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against yours. “Maybe more than I should.”

Jihoon sulks, his face twisted in irritation as he presses the paper towel against your ass, muttering under his breath about how he ruined it. You can hear him grumbling, the cum smudging the once-clear letters of his graffiti like some kind of art project gone wrong. He’s so focused on trying to clean it up, but all he’s doing is making a bigger mess, the red paint mixing with the white streaks, swirling into a chaotic, almost laughable design.

You, on the other hand, can’t stop the grin that spreads across your face. The whole situation is just too ridiculous—the great Woozi, all serious and brooding, now pouting like a kid who messed up his school project. You rest your arms on the counter, the cool surface grounding you after everything, and glance over your shoulder, still half-naked from the waist down, shaking your head.

“Hey,” you snicker, pushing up onto the counter, bare skin still tingling from what just went down, “come on, take a picture for me.”

He glances up, narrowing his eyes in that grumpy way of his, but he’s not about to argue. With a sigh, he reaches out to take your phone, swiping it from your hand like it was a burden. He shakes his head, but there's the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, waiting as he squats a little to get the right angle. His breath is still slightly ragged, cheeks flushed pink, but he’s focused now, swiping a thumb across the screen before lifting the phone to snap a pic. You hear the click, followed by his low mutter. “Fuckin’ smudged.”

“Let me see,” you laugh, reaching out for the phone. He hands it over with a huff, standing there, arms crossed, while you inspect the damage.

There it is. Bold, bright red, smeared all over your ass. “Woozi,” right there in the middle, smudged but still totally readable. The first “W” is clear, but by the time you get to the “zi,” it’s a messy blur of paint and cum, like he tried to rush through it at the end. You burst out laughing, the sound bouncing off the walls of the empty bakery.

“Woozi?” you choke out between laughs, glancing up at him. “You really went with that?”

Jihoon rolls his eyes, cheeks burning a bit now. “What? It’s better than my actual name, isn’t it?”

You squint at the screen again, biting your lip to stop the next wave of laughter from spilling out. The smudge really does make it funnier. It's like his little alter ego tried to make a grand appearance but ended up getting dragged through a mess of his own creation.

“Woozi,” you repeat, grinning as you shake your head. “So now I’m walking around with your vandal name on my ass?”

He shrugs, still pretending to sulk, though you can see he’s fighting back a smile too. “Thought it’d be… symbolic or something. Besides, no one’s gonna know what it says. It’s all smudged now.”

“Oh, they’ll know,” you tease, lifting the phone to show him the picture again. “It’s clear enough, trust me. Woozi’s gonna be famous for something else entirely after this.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, great. Exactly what I need. My name on your ass, and you showing it off to the world.”

“Not showing it off to the world,” you smirk, leaning back on the counter. “Just, you know, keeping it for personal reasons.” You give him a cheeky look, watching as his eyebrows raise in mild curiosity.

Jihoon moves closer, sliding his hands over your hips again, thumbs brushing the sides of your thighs. “Personal reasons, hm?” 

“Yup,” you say, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning too wide. “Might just stare at it whenever I need a good laugh. Or maybe when I need to remember how well you… fuck.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes again, but there’s a smirk pulling at his lips now. “You’re real funny, you know that?”

You nod, still grinning like an idiot. “Yeah, but you love it.”

“Mm,” he hums, stepping even closer, so close that your legs naturally part to let him stand between them. “Love it, huh?”

You raise a brow, tilting your head. “Yeah, love it. You, though?” You press your palms to his chest, fingers curling into his shirt just a bit. “You’re sulking because you didn’t get the masterpiece you wanted.”

His hands grip your waist, and he leans down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I’m not sulking,” he whispers, voice dripping with faux irritation. “I just didn’t expect my art to get ruined by…” He pauses, pulling back slightly to give you a teasing look. “…circumstances.”

You snort. “Circumstances? Jihoon, you came on it.”

He tries to hold back a laugh, but it slips out anyway, his chest vibrating against your hands. “Yeah, well, you didn’t exactly help the situation. You’re the one who—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head as if he’s trying to erase the memory of what just happened.

You grin, tugging him even closer by his shirt. “Say it. I’m the one who what?”

He chuckles. “You’re the one who kept calling me ‘Jihoonie’ like you were trying to kill me.”

“Oh, that’s on me?” you laugh, giving him a playful shove. “You loved it, don’t even lie.”

“I did baby girl, I did.”

You hold on to him, tired from working the whole day and from… fucking in the workplace too.

“But don’t think this makes us even. You still hit me with that damn mop.”

The next few days were nothing short of chaos—an exhilarating rush of sweet and savory tarts flying off the shelves, and new recipes you and Mrs. Lee concocted together, bringing fresh buzz to the bakery. The scent of freshly baked goods filled the air every morning, pulling in crowds, while the constant hum of the oven working overtime had become your new normal.

One morning, Jihoon arrives early, the sun barely peeking over the rooftops, casting a soft golden hue over the quiet streets. He strolls in, wiping the sleep from his eyes, hair a little mussed but looking determined to work.

As soon as he steps inside, he spots you standing near the counter with Mingyu. You're talking animatedly, your hands gesturing as Mingyu grins at something you said. His big frame blocks most of your view, so Jihoon immediately veers toward the vitrines to see how the tarts are doing. He doesn’t want to interrupt whatever you’re saying to Mingyu, but he's definitely curious.

He gets to the counter and freezes. The vitrines… they’re empty. Not a single tart left. Not even the little label card for the savory tarts, the one that proudly displayed the flavors he’d worked so hard to perfect.

His brows furrow, and he turns to you, half in disbelief. “Hey, where’s all the savory tarts?” he asks, trying not to sound like he’s panicking a little.

You and Mingyu exchange a quick glance before you turn to Jihoon, biting back a smirk. “Oh, yeah... about that,” you say, crossing your arms and leaning against the counter. “We had to stop selling them here.”

Jihoon blinks, caught off guard. “What?” He steps closer, eyebrows knitting together. “Stop selling them? What are you talking about?”

You sigh dramatically, playing it up. “They were just taking up too much space, you know? Not enough room for the sweets and everything else. Figured we’d move on to other things.”

Jihoon stares at you, his eyes flicking between your face and the empty case. You can see the gears turning in his head, confusion, then frustration. “But… they were selling well. Why would you—?”

Mingyu pipes up, poorly holding back a laugh. “Yeah, dude, it was wild. People just stopped caring about them, I guess.”

Jihoon’s eyes widen. “No way. They were doing so well just yesterday—” He stops, eyes narrowing at Mingyu's grin. Then he looks back at you, finally sensing something’s up. “Wait… what’s going on?”

You can’t help it. The corners of your lips twitch, and then you crack, bursting into laughter. “Come on, Jihoon. Just follow me.”

He follows you, still a little skeptical, his pace hurried as he tries to keep up with your sudden excitement. When you lead him out of the main bakery, his confusion only grows. You guide him around the corner to a neighboring shop space you’d kept quiet about.

Jihoon stops dead in his tracks the moment he sees the sign hanging above the door: Lee’s Tarts. His eyes go wide, scanning the large windows where people are already lined up outside, some chatting excitedly while others peek through the glass to get a look at the new place. And right inside, behind the counter, Mrs. Lee is standing tall, her hands expertly working as she serves up savory tarts to eager customers. The place is buzzing, the line practically spilling out onto the street.

“What the hell...” Jihoon mutters, blinking in disbelief.

You nudge his arm playfully. “Surprise.”

He turns to look at you, his expression still caught in shock. “You opened a shop?”

“Well, technically, Mrs. Lee opened the shop,” you grin. “I just helped.��

Jihoon shakes his head, still processing. “This… this is for her?”

“Yeah, for both of you,” you say, folding your arms, satisfied with the look on his face. “Your tarts were way too good to just stay in one little display case. Now they’ve got their own home.”

Then, without warning, he turns to you, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you into a tight hug.

“Holy shit,” he mutters into your hair, squeezing you so hard it almost knocks the wind out of you. “I can’t believe you did this.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes sparkling warmly, something that you rarely see from him. 

“You deserve it, Jihoon. It was all you.”

His lips curl into that soft, genuine smile that’s rare but so worth it when you see it. “Guess we’re gonna be pretty busy, huh?”

“Guess so,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Better get used to it, Woozi.”

You and Mingyu handle the morning crowd in your bakery, but every now and then, you steal glances through the window at the new Lee’s Savory Tart shop next door. The line of people doesn’t seem to stop; every time you look, it’s like there are more. Jihoon’s name is already making waves, and it’s only been a few hours since the doors opened.

Someone at the counter clears their throat, and you turn back, wiping your hands on your apron. A woman leans over the display case, eyes scanning the rows of sweets. “Hey, don’t you have those savory tarts? The ones with the spinach and cheese?”

You nod, smiling. “Not here anymore, actually. We’ve got something even better now.” You motion with your thumb toward the window. “Just next door. The savory tarts have their own shop now, Lee’s Tarts. You’ll find all the flavors there—probably even a few new ones.”

The woman’s eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up. “Oh! I didn’t know they moved! I was looking forward to trying them again.”

Mingyu, wiping down the counter behind you, pipes in with a grin, “Yeah, you’re gonna want to head over there before the line gets longer. Trust me, it’s worth it.”

The woman glances outside, spots the line, and her face shifts to one of mild panic. “Oh god, it’s already long.”

You chuckle. “Better get in there while you can. They’re selling out fast.”

She nods quickly, a little flustered, and rushes out the door, making a beeline for the shop next door. As the door closes behind her, you share a look with Mingyu. He’s smirking, arms crossed, leaning casually against the counter like he owns the place.

“You’re really sending our customers away like that, huh?” he teases, shaking his head. “What are we gonna do when everyone’s over there?”

You roll your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. “Oh please, you know people will still come for the sweets. Besides, Jihoon’s shop is practically ours. Same team, right?”

Mingyu grins wider. “Yeah, I guess. But damn, the guy’s getting popular fast. Never thought I'd see the day where Jihoon had groupies for tarts.”

You laugh, glancing out the window again, and sure enough, more people are queuing up outside the Lee’s Tarts storefront. “I know, right? It’s kinda surreal.”

Another customer steps up to the counter, a man in a suit, adjusting his tie as he peers at the empty spot where the savory tarts used to sit. “Excuse me, do you still have those mushroom and leek tarts?”

You shake your head, smiling. 

[...]

You lean against the counter, crossing your arms and watching through the glass again. There’s something deeply satisfying about seeing people excited for Jihoon’s tarts—almost like watching a small victory unfold before your eyes. It’s hard not to feel proud.

Mingyu glances at you, brow quirked. “You think he knows how big this is yet?”

You shrug, still watching the customers flow in and out of the shop next door. “Maybe. He’s probably too busy to even think about it right now.”

Mingyu snorts, pushing off the counter. “Yeah, well, let’s just hope he doesn’t get all cocky now that he’s got his own place.”

You smile softly, shaking your head. “Nah. That’s not him. If anything, he’s probably stressing about making sure everything’s perfect.”

As if on cue, the door to the bakery next door opens, and Jihoon steps out for a quick breath of air. He’s in his apron, hair falling into his eyes, looking a little sweaty but in control. 

He glances over to your shop and catches your eye through the window. For a second, his expression softens, and he gives you a small, appreciative nod.

You wave back, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. Then, before he can get too sentimental, he’s back inside, ready to tackle the next wave of customers.

As the day wears on, the steady flow of customers in both shops never really stops. You keep handling the orders, but every once in a while, someone comes in asking for the savory tarts, and you point them next door, grinning every time at how fast Jihoon’s new shop is becoming the talk of the town.

By the end of the day, when the last customer has left and the door finally swings closed, you take a deep breath, leaning against the counter, watching the lights flicker off in Lee’s Tarts through the window. Jihoon steps out again, this time wiping his hands on his apron as he locks up for the night.

He crosses the sidewalk and steps into your bakery, looking utterly exhausted but somehow content. “Busy day?”

You smile. “You could say that. You?”

Jihoon lets out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Never thought tarts could be this stressful.”

You step forward, wrapping your arms around his waist in a brief hug. “Well, looks like you’re stuck with it now.”

He smiles down at you, that soft look back in his eyes as he pulls you in for a kiss—quick and sweet this time, just a little stolen moment before the work starts all over again tomorrow.

From behind the counter, Mingyu makes a gagging sound, dramatically covering his eyes. “God, you two are disgusting.”

As you roll your eyes, Jihoon leans in close, his lips brushing your ear with a low murmur. “Maybe we should celebrate... you know, properly. You, me, that freaky side you try to keep in check—let’s see if I survive tonight.”

Your eyes flick up to meet his, a smirk pulling at the corner of your lips. “Is that a challenge, Jihoon?”

He chuckles, breath hot against your skin, his hand squeezing your hip suggestively. “Only if you’re up for it. I might not walk straight after, but I’m willing to take that risk.”

[...]

The next thing you know, you're in a motel room, Jihoon having insisted that the best way to celebrate was somewhere far away from work, where neither of you had to think about baking for once.

You’re on top of him, straddling his hips, thighs caging him, riding him so hard it’s like you’ve forgotten how to go slow. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard knocking softly against the wall with every thrust, but all you can hear is Jihoon’s moans—loud and desperate. 

His pale skin is already flushed pink, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

"Fuck... you're gonna break me," he gasps out, voice strained, eyes half-lidded and desperate. His head falls back against the pillow as you ride him harder, his lips parted in a silent moan. "I can't... shit, you're too good."

You lean down, your hair falling around your faces, your lips brushing his ear as you tease, “You’re not tapping out already, are you?”

His chest heaves with each ragged breath, his hands slipping down to grip your ass, trying to hold you still for a moment, but you don’t let him. You push back against him, harder, faster, and his groan rips through the small motel room. “Fuck, I’m serious... gonna fucking break...”

“You’re the one who wanted to celebrate, remember?” You dig your nails into his shoulders, moving with an intentional grinding roll of your hips, making you two shiver at the same time. "Now take it."

He almost sobs at that, his hands tightening on your waist, his head falling back as his hips buck up into you. The noises spilling from him—those choked-off moans and heavy breaths—made your lower belly boil, making you even bolder. You grind down, angling just right, and Jihoon lets out a sound that's more a whimper than anything.

You bite your lip, holding back a laugh as you grind down harder, feeling his cock twitch inside you. “Look at you. Jihoonie, you're so fucked out. What was that about me breaking you?”

He groans loudly, squeezing his eyes shut as his hands grip your thighs tighter, knuckles white from the pressure. “Shit—”

You lean down, your mouth brushing against his ear, your voice a sultry whisper. “Maybe you’ll survive if you’re lucky.”

That’s all it takes for Jihoon to melt completely. His hands slide down your body, clenching desperately as his entire body tenses beneath you. His hips stutter, a long, ragged moan tearing from his throat as he finally cums, body trembling as he cums hard, buried deep inside you.

For a moment, you just let him ride it out, watching the way his chest heaves, eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss, his body still twitching from the orgasm. You slow your movements, giving him time to catch his breath.

When he finally opens his eyes again, they’re hazy, half-lidded with exhaustion. He looks up at you like you’ve completely destroyed him, which, to be fair, you kind of have.

“Fuck,” he breathes out. “You really are going to break me.”

You smile, leaning down to kiss him softly on the lips, your hips still gently rocking against his. “Can’t break my Jihoonie.”

He covers his face, whimpering, cheeks flushing up as if they couldnt get more red. 

“If you call me that again, I'll paint your face.”

“At least it's not my bakery.”

[...]

You leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching through the window as Jihoon crouched outside, focused, the spray can in his hand hissing with each stroke of paint. The tart he was working on looked almost surreal—like it could pop right out of the wall, the pastry perfectly golden, the filling a burst of deep reds and oranges, with olives vibrantly on top. It was almost too pretty for a bakery wall, but it was Jihoon, and somehow, it worked.

"You're staring again," Mingyu's voice broke through your thoughts, and you barely turned your head as he leaned against the counter beside you, his stupid teasing grin stretching across his face.

“Shut up, i'm not,” you muttered, but even you could hear the weakness in your voice. Your eyes stayed glued to Jihoon, his hands moving quickly, confidently, as he added more details to the tart. a few people stopped to admire it, heads turning as they passed by, and you could see them whispering to each other, clearly impressed. he really was talented.

“Uh-huh," Mingyu’s voice showing that he was doubting everything you say, “You know, if you’re gonna stand there drooling, you might as well just go out there and sit on his lap while he paints.”

You shot him a glare, cheeks heating up. “Mingyu, fuck off.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Oh come on, just admit it. You’ve been staring at him all week. It’s obvious. The way you look at him? Please.”

You bit your lip, eyes sliding back to Jihoon outside. He had stood up now, switching cans, his fingers stained with vibrant shades of pink and yellow. There was something about watching him work, about how focused he got—His brows furrowed, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he leaned in close to get the details just right.

And, god, after yesterday when he finished the cake on the front of your shop… you were pretty much done for. You hadn’t even realized how long you'd been staring until he'd caught your eye, giving you that little smirk that made your stomach flip. And yeah, the way he insisted on going around the whole damn city to find the perfect pastel colors to match your aesthetic? It was sweet. Way sweeter than you wanted to admit.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, waiting, and you let out a long, frustrated sigh, finally caving. “Fine. okay, Yes. I fucking like him. Happy now?”

His eyes widened in mock surprise, but he was clearly pleased with himself. “Oh my god, really? Who would’ve guessed?”

“Oh, shut up,” you sulked, crossing your arms tighter across your chest and turning your gaze back to Jihoon, who was now adding some final touches to the tart's crust. The sunlight hit him just right, highlighting the sharp angle of his jaw, the veins in his forearms as he shook the can. “I don’t even know how it happened. One second I was annoyed as hell with him, and then… Yeah. Here we are.”

Mingyu chuckled, clearly enjoying every second of this. “I think it was when he convinced you to let him spray that cake on your wall. You looked like you were about to strangle him, but then you didn’t. You just stared at him like he’d hung the moon or some shit.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t deny it. “Yeah, well… I guess it was kinda cute. He really went all out with that cake. You know he circled the whole damn city for those colors?”

“Yeah, he told me,” Mingyu said, smirking. “And now look at you, all whipped for him.”

You groaned, running a hand through your hair, trying to push down the feelings that were bubbling up again. “God, why am I even telling you this? I don’t need you making it worse.”

ou sighed, glancing out the window one more time, watching Jihoon wipe his hands on his jeans, the drawing complete. He took a step back, admiring his work, and for a second, he glanced your way, catching your eye. He raised his hand in a casual wave, a soft smile playing on his lips. Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly turned away, feeling like you’d been caught.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow at you. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not.” You groaned, pushing past Mingyu to head back behind the counter. “Whatever. You’re just jealous he didn’t paint something for your store.”

Mingyu’s laughter followed you as you walked away, but as you leaned against the counter, arms still crossed, you found yourself glancing back out the window, one last time. There was no denying it anymore. You were definitely into him—his art, his focus, the way he just fit into your world without even trying.

You let out a small sigh, content, but your peaceful moment was interrupted when the door swung open hard enough to make the bell jingle a little too loudly. A group of boys walked in, street-worn and loud, carrying backpacks that were half-open, revealing cans of spray paint inside. A couple of them had skates hanging off their shoulders, and their clothes were loose, baggy, clearly not from around here—or at least, not part of the usual clientele.

You blinked, taking in the sight of them as they strolled in like they owned the place, heads bobbing to whatever beat they had going in their heads. One of them, tall with a beanie pulled low over his eyes, spotted you behind the counter and immediately grinned. “Yo, is this the spot where Jihoon’s lil' girlfriend works?”

You froze, mid-wipe, blinking silently at the question. Girlfriend? Lil’ girlfriend? Your face flushed, and you could feel the heat crawling up your neck. You quickly tried to play it cool, clearing your throat. “Uh... I don’t—what?”

The guy chuckled, his crew falling in behind him, all of them eyeing the bakery like it was some kind of alien planet. “Nah, nah, don’t play like that. We know. Jihoon said his girl runs this bakery. This is it, right?”

One of the other boys, wearing a hoodie that was about three sizes too big, pointed to the display case, leaning over the counter a bit. “Damn, y’all got those fancy-ass tarts here. Hey, you think we could get a discount? You know, 'cause we know your man and all.”

You blinked again, gulping, still processing the whole “girlfriend” thing. Flour clung to your apron and dusted your arms, and you suddenly felt a little out of place, standing there dirty from baking while these guys—who clearly rolled with Jihoon—looked way too comfortable.

“You, uh, want some tarts?” you asked, trying to change the subject, wiping your hands on your apron.

The beanie guy grinned again, leaning an elbow on the counter. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll take some. Heard you got some sweet shit in here. Hook us up, Jihoon’s girl.”

You cringed at the nickname but forced a smile, grabbing a few plates and serving up some of the sweet tarts you had left. They all watched you work, curiosity in their eyes, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched watched.

As you handed them their plates, another one of the boys spoke up. “Damn, I thought bakers were like... supposed to be all old and shit. You’re cute, though.”

You almost dropped the plate. “Thanks,” you muttered, cheeks turning pink as you slid the tart towards them. “Enjoy.”

“Yo, speak of the devil,” one of them interrupted, nodding toward the door as it swung open. You turned around, relieved, and there was Jihoon—sweaty, paint splattered across his arms and hands, still holding a spray can. He froze for a second, taking in the scene, his eyes narrowing at the sight of his crew huddled around the counter.

“The fuck you guys doin’ here?” Jihoon grumbled, walking in with that same grumpy look he always wore when he was caught off guard.

You could see Jihoon’s jaw clench as he approached the counter, shaking his head. “She’s not—why the fuck are you even here?”

Another one chimed in, chuckling. “We just wanted to see the spot, man! Heard it was dope.”

Jihoon stepped up next to you, placing a hand on your lower back in a subtle, protective gesture. “Get outta here, you dumbasses. This isn’t a playground.”

 “Bro, why didn’t you tell us she makes shit this good?”

Jihoon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked up to the counter. “They’re not here to cause trouble, are they?” he asked, giving you a look that was half-apologetic, half-amused.

“They’re just hungry,” you said, shaking your head, trying not to laugh at how out of place they all looked in your pastel-colored bakery. “Let them eat. I think they like the tarts.”

“They’re pretty good, right?” you teased, handing Jihoon a tart too.

One of the guys pointed his finger between you and Jihoon, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Man, your kids are gonna be so well-fed. Tarts for breakfast, lunch, and dinner!”

Jihoon almost choked on his tart, coughing as he shot the guy a glare. “Shut up,” he muttered, but there was no denying the redness creeping up his neck.

You burst out laughing, the absurdity of the situation too much to handle. “You really bring these guys everywhere, huh?”

Jihoon shook his head, embarrassed but smiling too. “I didn’t bring ‘em. They follow me like strays.”

One of the guys grinned, shoving another tart into his mouth. “Hell yeah, we do. And we gonna keep comin’ back if these tarts are free.”

You gave Jihoon a look, shaking your head with a laugh. “Let ‘em eat. They’re harmless… mostly.”

“That one,” Jihoon said, jabbing his thumb toward the high guy. “He’s the asshole who drew the giant cock on your wall.”

Your eyes widened, immediately zeroing in on the guy who was now trying to pretend he wasn’t the subject of conversation. He suddenly found the tarts very interesting, stuffing another one into his mouth to avoid your glare.

“No way,” you deadpanned, your voice dripping with disbelief. “You did that?”

The guy, mouth still full of tart, shrugged sheepishly. “Uh, it was… kinda funny though, right?”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you leaned against the counter. “Oh, hilarious,” you said, your voice thick with sarcasm. “Do you know how many old ladies came in here and gave me looks?”

He swallowed hard, looking around at his friends for backup, but they all just laughed, clearly enjoying the fact that he was getting called out. “I, uh… I’ll clean it up?” he offered, scratching the back of his head.

Jihoon snorted, shaking his head. “Too late for that, man. She already scrubbed it off.”

You shot Jihoon a look. “I scrubbed it off. With bleach. In the middle of a freakin’ heatwave.”

The guy looked genuinely guilty for a second, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “My bad, yo. Didn’t think it’d be that big of a deal…”

Jihoon laughed under his breath, clearly amused by the whole situation. “You owe her, dude.”

The guy shrugged again, looking at you with a half-apologetic, half-amused grin. “Aight, aight. My bad, lil’ bakery girl. I’ll make it up to you.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Yeah, you better,” you teased. 

“We’re definitely talking about the ‘girlfriend’ thing later.” Jihoon gave you a squeeze on your ass behind the counter, where nobody could see it.

You smirked, raising an eyebrow at him, not missing the way his eyes lingered on you just a second too long. “Oh, are we?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, his breath warm and teasing against your ear. “After I get these idiots outta here.”

[starlostseungmin]

husband!chan

✰ notes: the second entry of husband!skz series!! this is just for the meantime since my brain is still not ready to write a lot. i hope you guys enjoy!! not proofread. DO NOT FORGET TO REBLOG, COMMENT AND LEAVE TAGS! thank you <33

seungmin（ chan ）lee know , jeongin , han , changbin , felix , hyunjin.

ꔛ

Husband Chan who got down on one knee and asked, “Will you marry me?” on a private beach—just the two of you—because it was his ideal proposal and you gladly said yes. 

Husband Chan who took you to (name of country) for your honeymoon. 

Husband Chan who would take you to Sydney for a vacation and meet his family. 

Husband Chan who suggested to make Berry as your child while you were still thinking about having literal kids. It doesn’t matter how long, he only needs you and Berry to make him happy.

Husband Chan who has seven children to feed and declare you as his wife. 

Husband Chan who puts you first before everything. 

Husband Chan who loves to send pictures with the caption “For your eyes only,” and giggles to himself while reading your replies saying how much he looks cute or handsomeーhe can imagine your reactions. 

Husband Chan who loves movie nights and lets you decide which one you’d be watching so you better wear the most comfortable clothes and prepare a bucket of popcorn. 

Husband Chan who cooks you a lot of food and loves spoon-feeding you because you are his precious baby. 

Husband Chan who pretends he doesn’t know about you stealing his hoodies. He doesn’t mind and gets all giddy when you wear them since they look cute on you. “I’m not giving them back,” You said. “What’s mine is yours, baby,” He smiled. 

Husband Chan who invites you out on a dinner date on a casual weekend because he knows you would enjoy it. After dinner you would stroll around the city, holding hands. 

Husband Chan who carries you to your shared bed when he finds you sleeping on the couch while waiting for him to come home from work. 

Husband Chan who writes love songs about you and gets teased by Han and Changbin. 

Husband Chan who gives you the silent treatment but can’t put up with it for hours so he just pretends nothing happened and cuddles you. 

Husband Chan who knows what exactly you want when you’re upset and would gladly take you in his arms. He never leaves your side unless you want some space but you can’t be away from him for too long. 

Husband Chan who scolds you when you are not resting enough when he’s out there overworking himself. You decided that both of you should take a few days off which he willingly agreed to so he can spend more time with you. 

Husband Chan who lets himself be vulnerable when he’s with you because you’re the only one with whom he could let it all out. 

Husband Chan who loves to spoil you with hugs whenever you need them. 

Husband Chan who listens and understands whatever situation and dilemmas you have without any judgments rather he reassures you that everything will be okay. He gives you his full support for your decisions. 

Husband Chan who knows everyone in the industry so he knows a lot of controversies. He would share them with you on a random Sunday to gossip and giggle. 

Husband Chan who loves to make dad jokes and relays pick-up lines just to make you laugh. He gets embarrassed when it’s not funny so he hides in the bathroom until you get over it.

Husband Chan whose love languages are physical touch, words of affirmation, and acts of service. 

Husband Chan who has the most precious smile and laughs adorably makes your heart leap. 

Husband Chan whom you love the most in the world and will not let anything hurt him. 

Husband Chan whom you want to spend the rest of your life with, forever and always. 

Husband Chan who will never leave, never lets you go, and never allow you to divorce him because there’s no reason to begin with. He loves you, you love him, same story. 

✰ taglist: @notastraykid , @ameliesaysshoo , @l3visbby , @reignessance , @lix-ables , @skzfelixlove , @rachabreathing , @hyunverse , @minluvly , @sleepyleeji , @starseungs , @midsoulz , @oddracha , @armystay89

©️ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 , 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

[svtiddiess]

Green Eyes And Confessions

Synopsis: Wonwoo thinks you're fucking his best friend. But his best friend is fucking with him while you're fucking oblivious to what your crush thinks.

Pairing: Wonwoo x afab!reader x Mingyu

Genre: smut, one shot, roommates to lovers, non-idol! au, college! au

Rating: mature

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: mean dom!Wonwoo, sub!reader, oral (fem receiving), breast play, overstimulation, squirting, voyeurism, exhibitionism, male masturbation, reader is said to be smaller than Mingyu, lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: This was requested! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Thank you so much to my twin @tomodachiii for beta reading and helping me come up with the synopsis! (I'm still offended you put me up for sale)

Click here to join my taglist!

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

Humming in satisfaction, your hands smooth over your skirt and you do a final outfit check before heading out to the kitchen to grab coffee for class.

"Hey, beautiful," a voice you've come to love stops you in your tracks. Smiling, you turn towards the source of the voice.

"Hey, Gyu!" you chirp, smile widening as he approaches you.

"Heading to class?" he wraps his arms around you into a playful hug, making you giggle; you're always in awe at how much bigger and taller he is compared to you. Wrapping your arms around him and not so subtly snuggling your face into his chest, you hum in confirmation.

"Came to grab coffee before heading out."

"Luckily for you, I already made you one," he tilts his head towards the kitchen counter where a cup of freshly brewed coffee awaits you.

Making Mingyu your roommate was one of the best decisions you've made in life. Not only is he tall, buff, and handsome, but he also knows how to cook and clean; he's the perfect man, really. Letting out a weird mixture of a groan and moan of satisfaction, you squeeze him before grabbing the cup.

"What will I ever do without you?" you muse before taking a sip and letting out a sigh.

"Probably make your own coffee," he chuckles.

"That sounds like torture."

Chuckling, he tucks a strand of stray hair behind your ear before patting your cheek. Mingyu has always been affectionate towards you, usually opting to show you his love through physical touch. You don't mind it, as he knows his boundaries and knows when to stop, but lately, he's been a bit too affectionate.

It seems as if he's always going the extra mile for you: memorising your schedule so that he can pack lunch and coffee for you, commenting and complimenting on any changes you make to yourself, being more physically affectionate, and throwing in flirty remarks which never fails to make you blush. Unsure of why the sudden change in attitude, you've brushed it off as him simply being friendly.

"Look who's finally up," Mingyu's voice interrupts your thoughts, and you turn towards your other roommate, Wonwoo, who walks into the kitchen.

"Are you sure he's up?" You giggle at his state. Wonwoo's hair is dishevelled, his hoodie is crumpled, and his round-rimmed glasses are drooping from his nose. If you squint, you can tell there are very prominent eye bags under his eyes and a permanent pout plastered on his face.

"Did you even sleep?" Mingyu quips, to which Wonwoo responds with a grumble.

Wonwoo is the complete opposite of Mingyu—reserved, quiet, and someone who expresses love in subtle ways. He won't openly hug or shower you with affectionate names like Mingyu does, but you can tell he cares deeply; you just have to read between the lines. He follows you to parties to make sure you're safe, even though he hates them, always takes notes for you if you're in the same class, reminds you to drink water when you forget, and offers silent comfort whenever you need it.

Feeling bad, you give Wonwoo the rest of your coffee, to which he smiles gratefully before taking the cup. You find yourself smiling as you watch him finish the rest of your coffee; even in his dishevelled state, he looks handsome. With both his personality and appearance, he reminds you of a black cat.

"You should go, beautiful; it's getting late," Mingyu's voice pulls you from your thoughts. Nodding, you gather your things and prepare to head to class. Mingyu hugs you and kisses the top of your head, and for a moment, you could swear Wonwoo's hard stare and tense posture from over Mingyu's shoulder—but you brush it off, convincing yourself it was just your imagination.

With a final goodbye, you set off to class, already missing their presence.

You decide to grab a quick bite before your next class and head to the campus café. The food isn't exactly drool-worthy, but it gets the job done. Plus, seeing Wonwoo working there always gives you the boost you need to get through the day.

Your mood instantly lifts the moment you step into the café. Seeing Wonwoo in his work uniform never fails to make your heart flutter. It’s just a simple black button-up shirt and a brown apron, but the way the fitted shirt highlights his muscles makes you blush. Add his glasses framing his face and tousled black hair, and he’s the very definition of a 'campus crush.'

With a light blush dusting your cheeks, you approach the counter where Wonwoo awaits.

"Hey, Wonwoo," you greet him with a smile.

"Hey, you," he says, his eyes lighting up and his shoulders lifting at the sight of you. "Here for a snack? Want your usual?"

You giggle and nod, thankful he remembers your usual order. It was bound to happen, though—you make a point to visit the café whenever he's working.

He nods and, despite your many protests, gives you the order on the house. You're certain it's coming out of his salary, but with a defeated sigh, you take a seat at your usual table—the one with the perfect view of Wonwoo at work.

A few minutes later, Wonwoo brings over your order. The café is self-serve, but he always makes an exception for you. You're puzzled when you spot an extra chocolate chip cookie on the tray.

"A cookie?" you ask, looking up at him, confused.

"You’ve got three classes after this; you’ll need the extra sugar," he says with a shrug and a smile. "Plus, it's freshly baked."

You take a bite and instantly melt. The cookie is perfect—gooey, warm, and just the right amount of sweetness.

"I didn’t know the café made cookies," you say, tilting your head.

You notice him get flustered for a moment as a blush creeps up his cheeks. He quickly looks away, clearing his throat.

"It’s, uh, for a special event…" he mumbles, trailing off before clearing his throat again. "I can pack you more to take with you if you'd like."

You nod enthusiastically, making him chuckle. He heads back to the counter and returns with a bag full of chocolate chip cookies.

"Wonwoo, this is too much," you gasp.

"Hush, I know how much of a sweet tooth you have. These will probably be gone within the hour," he smirks, and you blush because he’s absolutely right.

You pout as you thank him, and he chuckles before leaning down to gently wipe the crumbs from the corners of your mouth.

"You're such a messy eater—cute," he mumbles. By now, you’re blushing so hard you probably resemble a tomato.

Before you can respond, someone calls his name. He sighs, giving you a sad smile.

"Well, duty calls," he says with a sigh. "See you at home, Y/N."

You wave goodbye, watching him get back to work, your heart still racing.

Heavy footsteps echo throughout the shared apartment as you trudge back from an excruciating day of classes. Tired was an understatement to the fatigue you're feeling right now.

"Hey," Mingyu greets from where he's sat on the couch.

Trudging over to Mingyu, you plop down next to him with a sigh. He scoots over, and his arms instantly welcome you, pulling you close and enveloping you in comfort.

"Long day, beautiful?" He hums, gently massaging your scalp, causing you to sigh and melt in his embrace.

"Too long," you murmur, wanting nothing more than to forget the day's events.

He shifts you both to lie on the couch, tugging on top of him. This was new territory, but you're too tired to resist; you let him do as he pleases. The smell of his cologne, the warmth of his body, the sound of his heartbeat, and the feeling of his hand rubbing your back slowly lull you to sleep.

"Go to sleep, beautiful; I'll be right here," he hums when you fight to stay awake. You relax into his embrace and drift off to sleep slowly at his words.

"What are you two doing?" A displeased voice cuts through the silence, startling you awake.

"She's tired, so I'm cuddling her," Mingyu states as you turn your head to look at Wonwoo, who's looking at the both of you with a glare that almost pierces your soul.

He holds his stare, the same hardened glare he had when you hugged Mingyu this morning. You shift uncomfortably under Wonwoo's gaze, unsure of why he's so irritated. The silence was deafening, and you could feel the tension in the room rise. You want him or Mingyu to say something cause you surely can't in the face of his scowl.

"Don't stay up too late," Wonwoo grumbles and returns to his room.

You release a breath you didn't realise you were holding and shift to face Mingyu. You're a little confused and startled as to why there's the barest of a satisfied smirk on his face, but he quickly hides it, looking down at you with a gentle smile.

"Let's cuddle in my room instead," he says and picks you up effortlessly. Letting out a small squeal, you wrap your legs around him and cling on for dear life.

He laughs as he plops you down on his bed. Huffing, you look up at him with a pout to which he coos.

"Wonwoo looked upset," you mumble, picking at a stray thread on his bed.

"He's probably just grumpy. You know how he is," he replies, heading towards his closet. Blinking, you're sure that if anyone was the most perceptive between the three of you, it was him. Mingyu would have already noticed and cared, but right now, it seems like he's purposefully pushing Wonwoo's buttons, which you deemed to be odd.

"But he seemed actually upset just now. It feels like he has been upset with us for the past few weeks…"

"What makes you say that?"

"I dunno…it's just he always seems annoyed whenever he sees us hanging out…"

"He's probably stressed cause of uni…" he pauses before finishing with a mumble, "or he's maybe jealous."

"Jealous?" Before you can say anything else, Mingyu tosses one of his t-shirts over your head. "Hey!" you protest. Snatching the t-shirt off, you huff as he laughs at your irritation.

"Go change. I'm sure you don't want to be in those stuffy clothes for any longer."

You grumble and head to the bathroom to get changed. Since Mingyu's shirt was far too big for you, you decided to wear it as a dress, slipping out of your now dirty shirt and skirt. After a silent debate, you decided to remove your bra as well, since wearing a bra to sleep would be very uncomfortable.

Walking back into the room, you find Mingyu already comfortable in bed and shirtless. He's told you multiple times that he prefers sleeping topless, but seeing him in this state makes you blush. Shaking away any thoughts and affirming yourself that you're only friends, you slip into bed with him. His arms immediately wrap around you and pull you close. Softly giggling, you snuggle into his chest.

"Gyu?" you hum.

"Yeah?"

"Earlier, you said that Wonwoo might be jealous of us. What did you mean by that?"

You feel his body tense a little but as quick as it came, it went.

"You've had a long day, beautiful; go to sleep," he murmurs, using one hand to massage your scalp gently.

"But-"

"No buts. Sleep."

With a defeated sigh, you reluctantly drift off to sleep in Mingyu's warm embrace.

The whirring of the coffee machine pulls you from your slumber. Groggily, you sit up and rub your eyes, glancing over at Mingyu, who's still fast asleep beside you. A sudden pang of guilt washes over you, and though you're not sure why, it feels as though you've somehow betrayed Wonwoo. Shaking off the thought, you carefully untangle yourself from Mingyu's long limbs, stumble out of the room, and head to the kitchen.

"Can you make me a cup too?" You ask Wonwoo, whose eyebrows furrow when he sees you leave Mingyu's room.

"Why are you coming out of Mingyu's room?" he asks with an edge to his tone. He puts his coffee down to stare at you pointedly.

"We slept together," you yawn, a little too disoriented to realise your wording.

"You…slept together?"

You hum and nod, brain clearly too tired to notice the tense way he holds himself.

Just then, Mingyu stumbles out of his room with a visible pout. You turn to look at him and see that he didn't bother to wear his shirt back.

"I can't believe you left me, Y/N!" he whines. "Do you know how cold I was without you?"

"Unbelievable," Wonwoo's scoff brings your attention back to him.

You furrow your eyebrows, confused at his irritation.

"You really are a slut aren't you?" he seethes.

"I'm sorry?" you sputter, your eyes widening as your brain fully wakes up. You're confused by his sudden change in attitude.

Did he just call you a slut?

"What do you mean slut?" your eyebrows furrow as your tone turns defensive.

"I said what I said," he growls.

"Wonwoo, what the hell is your problem?!" you fume; it's too early in the morning to be dealing with this.

"The hell man? You can't just call her a slut," Mingyu states with irritation.

"Shut the hell up, this doesn't involve you," Wonwoo snaps at Mingyu. Both you and Mingyu are taken aback by Wonwoo's attitude.

Wonwoo has always been so soft-spoken and calm around you, but seeing him act like this sends a shiver down your spine. He struts towards you, but you don't dare move from your place.

"How long have you been sleeping with him?" he growls.

Oh.

That's when it hits you. You're wearing Mingyu's shirt, Mingyu's topless; you both come out of his room; you said you slept together.

"W-Wait Wonwoo, that's not what-"

He grabs your face, and you let out a squeak.

"I asked you a question. Answer me," he growls, bringing your face closer to his.

Letting out a soft whimper, you squeeze your thighs together.

"It was only last night!" You defend.

"First, you pranced around in those little skirts. You're getting all cozy and romantic with my roommate without telling me, then you slept with him behind my back, and now you're lying to me?" he snaps. "You deserve to be punished, kitten."

"W-What?" you stutter, gulping hard. Never in a million years did you think Wonwoo would behave like this. You’ve always seen him as a soft-spoken gentleman, a nerdy gamer, and a cat lover. But seeing him like this makes your heart skip a beat, and not in a bad way.

Some lonely nights in bed were spent thinking of what type of man Wonwoo was in bed. You always thought of him as a soft lover based on his personality and demeanour. But now, seeing how he acts, you realise you couldn't have been more wrong.

His piercing gaze and harsh tone send shivers down your spine. Gulping, you glance past Wonwoo to see Mingyu, who offers you a reassuring smile that helps relax your body. You suck in a breath and look back at Wonwoo, your heart fluttering when you meet his piercing gaze yet again.

You can tell he’s waiting for your reaction. Even in this situation, he’s attentive to you. You respond with a small smile and a nod. In return, he gives you a gentle smile, lifts you up, and sets you on the kitchen counter.

"Is this okay with you?" he murmurs softly, his tough demeanour faltering momentarily. Your heart flutters at the gesture, and blushing deeply, you nod.

"Words, kitten."

"Y-Yes, it's okay," you mumble.

He gives you a soft smile before turning towards Mingyu, who's watching the both of you with a heated gaze.

"You. Sit and watch," Wonwoo orders.

Mingyu grabs a chair and Wonwoo's unfinished coffee, placing the chair opposite you both, giving himself the perfect view of what's about to unfold. Smirking, he sits down and sips the coffee, anticipating what's to come, like he was watching his favourite episode unfold after a whole season of build-up.

Turning his attention back to you, Wonwoo looks you up and down, causing you to squirm. He scrutinises the shirt you're wearing.

"I really want to take this off, but I don't want him to see what's mine, so I'll let it go—just this once."

Your heart jumps at the thought of him calling you 'his'. You're not sure if he truly meant it, but decided not to mull over it at the moment.

He traces his hands up your thighs and onto your torso, stopping at your breasts and squeezing them, causing you to moan.

"No bra? You're really going to get it," he growls.

You whimper at the feeling of him massaging your breasts through the shirt, making him smirk. You gasp when you suddenly feel his hand touch your bare skin. You arch your back and whine when you feel him tug on your nipples.

"That's right. Be as loud as you can; show him how good I make you feel," he purrs.

You can feel your core throb the more he plays with your breasts. He leans in and leaves wet kisses on your neck, each accompanied by a teasing bite.

"Wonwoo, please," you whine.

"Hm? What is it, kitten?"

"Need more, please," you whimper, blushing hard.

With a smirk, he drops to his knees and spreads your thighs. Blushing heavily, you try to close them, but his strong grip prevents you. He slowly peels your soaked panties off, making you squirm.

"Stop moving," he orders, and you instantly freeze in place.

He tosses your panties towards Mingyu, who pathetically stumbles for it. Before you can make any comment on it, Wonwoo licks a long stripe up your core, moaning at the taste. You gasp and whimper, legs automatically closing, but he keeps them open with his arms.

He dives in without warning, causing you to gasp and grab his hair. He expertly uses two fingers to separate your lips and dives his tongue into your core, lapping up all your juices. You moan his name and pull him in closer, but his glasses knock him back. With a growl, he tosses his glasses onto the counter and dives back in. Goosebumps riddle your skin as the cool air hits your warm body.

You catch a glimpse of Mingyu, who's stroking himself with your panties wrapped around his dick; his eyes are locked onto you as pants and groans escape his lips. You feel a jolt of pleasure course through you when you feel Wonwoo suck on your clit. His hands kneading your thighs, his hair tickling your skin, the sucking of your clit, the lewd scene of Mingyu stroking himself, it all becomes too much for you.

"Wonwoo, I'm cumming!" You squeal as you come undone on his tongue.

He continues to lap up all your juices unrelentingly. You whine and push him away, but he doesn't budge. A choked moan escapes your lips when he inserts two fingers into you. Tears prick your eyes as Wonwoo starts to fuck you with his fingers.

"W-Wonwoo! T-Too much!" You stutter out, feeling overwhelmed by the overstimulation.

He continues his brutal pace as his other hand snakes up and pinches your nipple. Your pleas are only met with unrelenting thrusts of his fingers and the sucking of your clit. Tears stream down your face as your brain becomes fuzzy due to the overwhelming pleasure. Your legs shake as you already feel yourself tipping over the edge again.

Before you know it, your vision whites out, and you're squirting all over him, making a mess all over the counter.

Your ears ring as he continues to lick up your juices. After a few more licks, Wonwoo finally lets you go and comes up. You blush hard when you see his face soaked with your juices. He picks up his glasses from the counter and smirks at your blushing face as he puts them on.

You peer over Wonwoo's shoulder to see Mingyu heaving with his head thrown back, cum painting his stomach. Somewhere in the middle of you cumming, he must've cum too.

"You sound so cute when you come undone for me," Wonwoo mumbles, returning your attention to him. He pulls you into a deep kiss, a sharp contrast to how he treated you just moments ago. The gesture makes your heart flutter, and you find yourself falling even deeper for him.

You taste yourself along with the coffee he had earlier on his tongue, a taste you find strangely addictive. Cupping your face, he sucks on your bottom lip. The both of you get lost in the kiss. You only separate when you run out of air, gasping. You look into his eyes, which hold a deep affection for you—more than just friendship. You can sense that he wants to say something, but he's holding himself back.

"He has a crush on you, you know," Mingyu's voice interrupts the silence.

The both of you look at Mingyu, who's looking back with a cheeky grin as he cleans himself up using your panties. You make a mental note to throw that pair away.

"He's always had a crush on you and gets jealous whenever we hang out. He's too much of a coward to confess his feelings, so I thought I'd give him a little push. That's why I've been flirting with you lately."

Shocked, you look back at Wonwoo. Never in a million years would you have thought that Wonwoo would have a crush on you. You have always found him attractive and harboured feelings for him but suppressed them as you didn't want to ruin your friendship. Wonwoo doesn't meet your gaze. Instead, he seems focused on the hem of your shirt.

"Wonwoo?" You prompt him for an explanation.

Sighing, he nods slightly.

"It's…true," he mumbles. "I've had a crush on you since the day we met. You're so sweet and kind, but I didn't want to ruin our friendship, so I tried distancing myself. I guess that's why you ended up spending more time with Mingyu than with me," he sighs.

"Seeing you come out of Mingyu's room today, I…I don't know, I just snapped," he mumbles. "I shouldn't have treated you that way. I'm sorry. And I understand if you hate me and want me out of your life now."

Smiling, you gently cup his face and force him to look at you. Your heart breaks when he looks at you with eyes filled with regret and fear.

"Wonwoo, I could never hate you; you're too cute for that," you whisper.

"Wha-"

"I have feelings for you too, Wonwoo," you giggle. His eyes widen before softening at your confession.

"Let me take you out on a proper date," he says before leaning in. The softness of his voice spreads warmth across your chest, but just as you're about to respond, his lips brush against your ear.

"And then I'll make sure to properly fuck you,"

You sputter, hitting his arm and then hiding your face in your hands.

"Deal," you mumble.

He chuckles and removes your hands from your face before leaning in for a tender kiss, sealing the deal.

"You're welcome, by the way," grins Mingyu.

"Shut up, Mingyu."

[san8ny]

CamGirl! Ellie

“How...” You trail off as you view the poll in disbelief, setting the brightness of your monitor up in an effort to re-read the winners of your next collaboration,

Ellie Williams had won by a landslide over Abby Anderson.

How was that even fuckin’ possible, i mean, it was practically unheard of in the field of camming; a rookie like Williams beating a veteran like Anderson out.

You prop a fuzzy sock-clad foot on your desk as you lean back in your streaming chair, the viewers going absolutely insane at the chance of a collab with Ellie Williams now becoming a reality. You simply couldn’t help the amusement that began to simmer in your manner.

“Well..I did promise you all, didn’t I?” You flash a pearly smile, looking back at your camera as the thousands of comments roll in,

@Ilovesluts1: LETS GOOOOO!

@Abbys3xual: made like a bajillion accounts to vote for abby smh :/

@EWismyreligion: bro sm1 tag me when its starts next week

@AbbyAnderson: aw, dont seem so down, ill get em next time

@FuckSuckGo: ░PUSSY░IN░BIO░

Skimming through them, you slightly tilt your head at the viewer count, “Mm, we’re past our usual viewership number, are you all that excited to see me get fucked?” Your laugh coming out a bit airy as you slowly begin to unzip the large hoodie you had on, top set of teeth brushing against your bottom lip, “Now that you’ve got something fun to look forward to, let’s get back on our usual schedule.”

Meanwhile, Ellie was laying in bed, laptop propped up on her thighs as she watches your stream in antcipation on her alt. Poor girl had practically chewed her nailbeds down to nothing as she hears you talk about her for the first time in that sultry voice you had; Ellie practically worshipped the ground you walked on- hell, you were the one to even get into her camming.

She first came across your sfw gaming account, thinking you were a fresh breath of air. You had good humor, seemed down to earth and you were beautiful as hell.

Couple of weeks later, you mention in a ‘StarDew Valley’ stream how your other account got flagged for the influx of subscribers you were obtaining, the streaming platform mistaking them for bots. You were just that good, and Ellie didn’t need any further convincing before finding the paywalled account and sprinting to her coat, fishing out the credit card.

Safe to say she quickly became one of your top donators in just a couple of days, the comments talking amongst themselves of just who ‘User1009’ could be, and the hefty amount of money being sent in a single sitting; you didn’t really bat an eye all that much as you were pretty use to it, but upon reading the comments, you smiled; “Guess i’m well liked?”

shortly after, the system text-to-speech alert sounds:

@User1009 has sent a donation of 3000USD with a note attached:- More than you know :)

Ellie was ensnared in your trap. She worked a regular 9-5, she wasn’t under a hot-shot label like you when she cammed in the little to no free time she had, instead, opting to freelance with little 5 minute amateur videos.

Though, it’s her toned body and music-like moans that gets her quickly climbing in the ranks, the platform practically becoming infatuated with the quick strokes of Ellie’s wrist when she’s pumping a sleek toy inside of her, or the risk of her being caught in the very public areas she performes said acts in. She was a thrill, and had everyone tuned in.

Even you, as you probe your mouse around her offical account in your dim-lit room, trying to see just who would be bending you over.

“She’s cute..” You mutter as you click on one of the more clearer videos, heat quickly consuming you as her slicked pussy comes into camera-view, long slender olive-toned fingers pistoning in and out of her swollen cunt aggressively as she chases an orgasm, before slowly removing them and demonstrating how her cum webs inbetween digits, some cascading down her wrist before the video cuts.

And for the first time in some weeks, you catch yourself actually feeling excited as you rub your thighs together.

Not just for the clicks and money either..but for some girl on the internet.

Hey, i dont rlly know if you’d be okay with this but..r u down for a vid tgtr? my fans rlly like u but ik u dont do collabs lol (sent at 11:36pm)

[submattenthusiast]

brat

no summary because i cannot for the life of me write one.

pairings ; bratty!sub!matt x mean!dom reader (no use of y/n)

contains- smut, spanking, pain kink, degradation, orgasm denial, mommy kink, crying, all that good stuff.

notes - sorry this took so long ! for @luvs4matt thank you for requesting :) . not proofread lowercase intended.

walking up to the register, you had a handful of clothes and your boyfriend matt trailing mindlessly behind you. “you know you could help me carry these clothes instead of staring obnoxiously at my ass matt” you spoke, breaking him out of the trance he was in. “no you got it, plus i’m already paying” he said, fumbling in his pockets for his wallet. you put your items on the counter and greeted the cashier before jolting forward with an “oomph”. ignoring the hand on your ass, you continued the transaction, only turning around to grab matt’s card.

a cheeky smirk was plastered on his face as you strolled out of the store. “what the fuck was that?” you spoke through gritted teeth. “what? i told you i would pay” he casually said. “groping and smacking my ass?” you shot back, shoving your bags in his hands. he shrugged it off.  “make yourself useful please” you smiled, walking towards the next store. he was dumbfounded by your words but adjusted the bags and trudged into the store. 

“which one do you like better matt?” you questioned, holding up two shirts. matt looked up from his phone for a second before shrugging, “the black one, can we go home after this i’m tired” he complained, returning his attention to his phone. you sighed, choosing the opposite shirt than the one he picked, knowing he picked the first one he saw instead of actually paying attention. “you can go home i’m still shopping, just leave your card with me” you were irritated with him, and just wanted to shop in peace.

“how are you gonna get home then smart one” he rolled his eyes, thinking you were joking. “i’ll find a way” you casually said, rummaging through the rack of clothes. matt’s eyes widened as he realized that you were serious. without another word, he slipped his card into your back pocket and kissed you on the cheek before walking out of the store.

۶ৎ

you finished shopping and got a ride home from a friend, avoiding an awkward uber ride. “thank you for the ride, text me when you get home safe” you yelled to your friend before stepping into the house. you slipped off your shoes and made your way upstairs. the various shopping bags pushing against eachother alerted matt of your presence.

matt lifted up off the couch and walked towards you. “he-” he started. you held your hand out to his face stopping him in his tracks, his brows furrowed as he frowned. you handed him your shopping bags and pointed to the bedroom. you turned on your heels and walked into the kitchen, grabbing water and a snack. matt was frozen in place, unable to process what just happened. you never greeted him like this, you always gave him a hug or a kiss. he blankly stared at you as you moved around the kitchen, waiting for you to speak to him.

 after grabbing what you needed you headed toward the room, a confused matt trailing behind you. “ma-” he tried again. “go in the room, take my clothes out of the bags, and then sit down” you instructed, he nodded and walked into the room. you strolled to the hallway closet to grab a towel then made your way back to the room. walking in you were met with matt sitting at the edge of the bed nervously and your clothes folded neatly next to him. you walked around to the nightstand at the side of the bed to place the items in your hand down, except the towel, throwing it on the bed.

“since you wanted to be an ass earlier you’re gonna watch as i try on all the clothes i got and if i hear a single sarcastic comment you’re in for it, got it?” you said, reaching for the shirt on top of the pile. “yes ma’am” he nodded.

you tried on a few shirts, jeans, skirts, and a hoodie. you were excited to have a fashion show for your boyfriend, so far he hadn’t said anything out of line and it started to make you reconsider the punishment you were planning to give him. after you tried on the last item he fucked up. “this is the shopping you wanted to do so badly, it’s been hours and this was all you got?” he sighed in disbelief, standing up.

you let go of the bottom of the shirt you were about to take off and took a deep breath, matt was doing so good but he just had to be a smartass. 

“get on your knees, now’’ you demanded, tone filled with anger. matt had been acting up all day and you were beyond sick of it. his body tensed at your words, realizing that he was fucked.

“make me”, he shot back, keeping up the attitude as if he wasn’t scared shitless. matt stood firmly in his place in front of the bed. your body moved before your mind as you quickly switched from in front of the full-body mirror to standing in front of your boyfriend. in fear and anticipation, he watched you intently, shivers traveling all over his body. your hands traveled up his body feeling the goosebumps under your fingertips, slowly reaching his broad shoulders. the grip you had on his shoulders tightened as you pushed down, forcing him on his knees.

matt hit the ground with a huff, whispering a soft ouch. “you know your safe word’’ you said while grabbing his face, forcing him to look up. “orange, no need for it, i can take anything you give me,’’ he said boldly. “I hope you can tough guy” you mocked, knowing how easy it was to break him.

his blue eyes gazed into yours as he waited for your next move, feeling another smart comment on the tip of his tongue. you let go of his jaw to softly caress his cheeks, beard pricking at your fingertips. matt leaned into your touch, a sigh falling out of his lips as your soft hands moved.

you removed your hands from his face, tangling one in his hair and raising the other. your palm met his cheek, catching him off guard. matt pursed his lips together, trying to hold back the sounds he wanted to let out. you put a finger between his lips, pulling his bottom lip down. “don’t hide those sounds from me, you were talking so much earlier, why stop?” you said, leaning down over him.

“hit me again please” matt spoke, moving your hand from his mouth to his cheek. you obliged and landed another harsh slap, leaving his cheek stinging. he whimpered at the contact, it hurt so good, he craved more. his cheeks were bright red by the time you finished, a few tears fell but he hadn’t told you to stop yet.

“take your pants and boxers off” you ordered, moving to sit on the bed. he unbuttoned his pants, pulling them off with his boxers, and kicked them off. the cold air hitting his bare lower half made him jump. his semi-hard cock caught your eye, looking at it and then back at his face. matt noticed your stare and felt a bit awkward he wasn’t small by any means but your stare made him feel like he was.

once he undressed you patted your lap, confusing matt at first until he realized what you had planned. He took long strides over to you, stopping to glance at you once he was in front of you. “lay down matt” you instructed, leaning back to give him room.

matt kneeled on the bed beside you before hovering his stomach over your thighs. He stretched his arms over you to balance himself before gently laying on your thighs. Careful not to hurt himself or you, he scooted up so his ass was more in reach for you. he rested his head on his arms once he was fully adjusted.

you glided your hands across his bare asscheeks, attempting to soothe him before starting. He shivered at the contact, your hands were freezing. “use that mouth for something good and count for me” you said, squeezing his right cheek. matt gasped at the unexpected touch but shook his head. You placed your right hand on his lower back and used your left one to spank him. you lifted the hand up, and brought it back down, giving his left cheek a hard smack, his body jolted forward at the powerfulness of the slap “ah–fuck one” he cried out.

you delivered 5 more strikes to his left asscheek before moving on to the right. matt was still keeping his tough guy up even though tears were staining his cheeks. “what are we at now?” you questioned, “six” he sniffled, and the tears wouldn’t stop flowing. “good now stop all that crying,” you said before spanking him again. “seven”.

 the more you hit him the harder he got, his cock was fully erect against your thighs, a bit of precum leaking onto your skin. your hand made contact with his ass again and his act began to falter. “mama hurts please” he whined, you snorted at his words. “should’ve thought about that before being a brat all day yeah?” you responded, moving your hand from his back to tug at his hair, making him groan. 

“you wanted this no? acting out like a whore, begging for attention” you degraded, tightening your grip on his hair. he whimpered at the degradation and at you pulling his hair. continuing to hold his head up, you spanked him again, harder than before. “answer me”. “y-yes i did m sorry” matt sobbed. “if you wanted this so bad why are you crying?”.

“I don’t know i’m sorry” his brain was clouded at this point so clouded that he almost forgot to keep count. “e-eight” he whispered. “good boy, can you handle two more?” you cooed, releasing his head, setting it gently back down. “yes please keep going” he begged, cock jerking at the praise.

your hand struck his ass once again, harder than the last time. you wanted to make these last two spankings count. His body flew forward at the contact, a pained moan falling out of his mouth. “nine fuck” his cock was painfully hard now, and everytime your hand touched his bottom it moved against your thigh, giving him a bit of friction. you raised your hand for the last time tonight, matt sucked in a sharp breath, preparing himself for the pain.

your hand swung down and hit both of his ass cheeks, he yelped, not expecting this from you. “t-ten ah–shit” he stuttered out, and tears were beginning to form again. you caressed his ass gently, trying not to cause more pain. matt groaned at your touch, ass still stinging from the last hit. you tapped his ass gently, telling him to get up, he whimpered out “can’t so sore”. 

“not so tough now huh” you teased, rubbing his back soothingly. “no i’m not mommy’m sorry” he apologized, pouting a bit. “that’s what i thought, now what are we going to do about this boner you have hm?” you ask. “need you please”.

“I thought you were so sore?” you mocked his words from earlier. “am but i still wan’ you, don’t care if it hurts,” he desperately said. “prove it” you challenged. “fuck me good, show me how sorry you really are”. your words flipped a switch in him, a few minutes ago he was ready to tap out, and let his boner go away on its own. now he just wanted to feel your pussy around him as he rutted his hips into yours.

he cursed under his breath as he got up from your lap, legs threatening to give out. you laughed at his eagerness. you stood from the edge of the bed to remove your skirt and panties, now having as much clothes on as matt. you threw the skirt on the floor but kept the panties in your grasp, saving those for later.

you laid back against the bed, into the various pillows before waving matt over. he stood shyly beside the bed waiting for his next to command, quickly moving when he saw your hand. He climbed on the bed and kneeled in front of you. while he was in front of you you took a good look at him, eyes tracing his body. he was sweating horribly,his hair was now a dark almost black brown, the white t-shirt he had on clung to his body showing you his tattoos and the outline of his stomach. your eyes went lower and lower eventually making contact with his cock, precum smeared at the tip and was an angry red now.

while you were eyefucking him he got shy, he hated when you stared at him in silence like this. matt began to get impatient though, taking matters into his own hands and spreading your legs so he could get in between them. you gasped at the sudden motion, giving him a mean glare. “you were taking too long,” he shrugged, focusing his attention on your pussy.

your folds were glistening, something about putting matt in his place got you worked up, wetness collecting in your panties the whole time you punished him. matt brought a finger down to play with your cunt, spreading your arousal all over. he traced a few figure eights on your clit before inserting a finger inside your hole. you moaned at the intrusion,his long finger massaging your walls. 

before you could enjoy him fingering you he removed his fingers, wrapping them around his cock instead. matt dragged his cock against your folds, using your wetness as lube. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. he planted one hand on your hip and the other beside your head as he pushed his cock in, stretching you out. matt let out a deep grunt as he filled you.

matt bottomed out and you groaned, his size never failing to leave you speechless. he gave you a minute to adjust before pulling back and thrusting back into your pussy. a few thrusts in and matt was already close. “close–shit” he groaned, your walls squeezed him deliciously. “just pathetic, it hasn't even been 5 minutes yet,” you spat. “y-you just feel so good please” he pleaded with you. “not a chance in hell” you spoke, denying him of his first orgasm. 

you pulled him by the shirt so he was face to face with you to whisper, “don’t you fucking cum until i do, understand?”. he nodded and you connected your lips with his, you both moaned at the feeling. the kiss was short lasting as you pushed him back by the chest, remembering his actions earlier, he didn’t deserve a kiss from you.

matt’s thrusts got rougher and it got harder for him to contain his impending orgasm. He unlatched your left leg from around his waist and hitched it over his shoulder, wanting to be deeper inside you. your thighs stung at the stretch but he was so deep inside you, you didn’t even mind. you threw your head back as matt buried his cock deeper, the head hitting your cervix every time he snapped his hips against yours.

your hands found their way under his shirt, nails scratching down his back. matt hissed at your nails digging into his back, only increasing the pleasure he was feeling. “if i had known misbehaving was gonna l-land me in this position i would’ve done it way sooner–fuck” he grunted. 

“shut up i’m close” you couldn’t even think of an insult to spew at him, his dick was too good. hearing that you were close he rutted his hips into yours, desperate to cum now. “please can’t hold it anymore” he whimpered, cock twitching with each thrust. 

 “cum with me fuck–” you moaned, juices spilling all over him. “shit shit t-thank you mama fuck–” he babbled, orgasm taking over,. matt’s thrusts slowed as he came, streaks of white filling you up. you breathed heavily as you came down from your high, letting your legs fall from his waist and shoulder. his dick went limp as he pulled out. a mixture of cum dripped out your pussy as he did. matt was worn out now, the attitude from earlier completely gone. He fell forward onto your chest, getting comfortable there before whispering multiple thank you’s and i’m sorry’s.

a/n this is really the worst thing i've ever written sorry but i hope you enjoyed!!!

taglist; @mattybsgroupie @frnkocnlvr @fratboychrisera @issysh3ll @zariyam @bellassturniolo @thepubeburgler @gwennybenny @matts-myloverboy @luvs4matt @floralsturniolo @karttpet @benardsgfs @sturniolo-fann @cuntendipity @heartsforvin @ifwdominicfike @rain-likes-purple

[withleeknow]

october 23rd.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, slice of life; one ass grab, unedited bc i am a danger to society word count: 1k note: i whipped this up pretty spontaneously and i actually kinda loathe it lol but i still wanted to post smth bc it’s my anniversary of joining the fandom 🥺 also a little early bday post for mimo. the bunny in question is leebit but i couldn’t drop any names bc this is not idol specific lol. anywhomst happy jen(o)versary

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

Minho comes into your shared apartment, shrugging off his coat and taking off his shoes with minimal noise. It’s not that late — just a quarter past midnight — and you’re not a light sleeper by any means, but still.

He had told you not to wait up for him, that his work dinner might end late and he knew you had a long day. Minho patters on socked feet further into your home, expecting you to be in bed already sleeping, surrounded by your loyal trio of cats, and yet, it’s not the bedroom where he finds you.

Yes, you’re sleeping, but you’re on the couch, in front of the TV with Netflix’s question “Are you still watching?” written over a paused scene of the K-drama you’re both currently obsessed with. There’s a stuffed bunny in your arms, held tightly against your chest like it’s your most prized possession. Looks like you’ve been napping for a while now.

The white bunny is dressed in a navy hoodie, his eyes full of mischief that’s only emphasized by a toothy smile that he sports. It’s the plushie that Minho got for you during your vacation trip to Osaka last year, when you happened to spot the little fur ball in the window of a toy store and said it looked like your boyfriend. It’s become a great companion for you ever since you brought it home, something for you to hold onto whenever you miss your love.

Minho is a little surprised. You don’t usually force yourself to stay up for you, especially when you’re tired.

He doesn’t disturb you right away though. Instead, he heads toward the bathroom to change and freshen up for bed. You would probably kill him if he touched you in his outside clothes anyway.

When he returns some fifteen minutes later, he switches off the TV, tugs the bunny by its ears to free it from your embrace and chucks the thing haphazardly to the carpeted floor. It’s your prized possession, not his. Besides, you don’t need your little replacement Minho anymore now that he’s home.

When he scoops you in his arms, you stir awake, adorably confused as he carries you to the bedroom.

“Where’s my bunny?” Half a question, half a yawn.

“Hello to you too,” he mutters, laying you under the covers with narrowed eyes though he still leans in to press a greeting peck to the corner of your mouth. “I guess I don’t even matter as much as your little toy. Not even a ‘How are you?’”

“Okay, love of my entire life.” You roll your eyes with affection, pulling him down to kiss him properly. You can still taste it, the white wine that he must’ve had all night. “How are you? How was the dinner, big baby?”

“Boring. Unbearable. Should’ve just stayed home with you,” Minho laments, crawling into the space next to you, settling into your arms as you hug him close. This is what you should be doing all the time. With him, not some lame rabbit. “Why did you wait up? I told you you didn’t have to.”

You card your fingers through his soft hair, playing with the strands that curl at the nape of his neck. “Our anniversary’s tomorrow. Or I guess it’s today already. Just wanted to see you before the morning.”

“Would it make a difference?”

“I don’t know. I just wanted to see you.”

Your boyfriend detaches from you for a second to hold himself up on one elbow. He just stares at you for a brief moment, makes you blush under the scrutiny of his gaze. His big eyes, usually keen and sharp, always soften to a dizzying degree when they look at you.

Then Minho is leaning close to slant his mouth over yours again. “You’re cheesy today,” he comments, his tender smile still pressed against your lips. "Happy anniversary."

You only hum in response. One of his hands slides down your body to rest on your ass, giving it a little affectionate squeeze, the moment still entirely innocent despite his sneaky fingers.

You kiss for a while, lazily moving together in tandem, gentle hands holding onto the other person like a lifeline. In a way, you suppose you are. You’re each other’s lifelines, each other’s lighthouses.

When you pull away, it’s to let out a yawn that you can’t hold in anymore. “Happy anniversary”, you finally say back, sleepily. “Can you go get my bunny now? Did you leave him on the floor again?”

Minho rolls his eyes, yet it’s playful and completely endeared. “Your bunny again. That thing is on the floor where it belongs. You replaced me. Didn’t you use to call me your bunny?”

“Don’t do that to him,” you scold softly. “He’s our son. Have you seen the resemblance? You look like you literally birthed him.”

“Oh my god, why would you compare me to that thing like that?” Before you know it, Minho’s rolling over, resting half of his body on top of yours like a weighted blanket to pin you down, to get you complacent before you nag him any further about a toy bunny that he only sometimes gets jealous of. “You’re delirious. Please go to sleep.”

The next morning, you wake up to an empty bed, the warmth that you usually feel beside you gradually waning by the second. Minho’s gone, but greeting you in his place is a white bunny with a mischievous smile and a twinkle in his big eyes — truly a perfect replica of the man. The same bunny that he always makes a show of hating so much.

The sun is out to play, hanging high up in the sky, slithering through the cracks between the curtains to caress your hair. It feels like it’s gonna be a beautiful day; you’ve got your bunny, the sun, and if you focus hard enough, you’ll hear the sounds of pots and pans out there in the kitchen, Minho’s soft voice humming a tune you’re too familiar with, and the smell of fresh coffee and pancakes wafting all around.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 23.10.2024]