#eating something is better than eating nothing

[heeluvv]

𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐓 .ᐟ.ᐟ

pairing ᝰ.ᐟ idol! ot7 x 8th member! reader

genre ᝰ.ᐟ smut

warnings ᝰ.ᐟ gang bang, unprotected sex, cum eating, oral (m), fingering, overstimulation, etc. (wc 6.149k)

natty's notes ᝰ.ᐟ mdni, hate comments will be deleted.

the performance had ended, the energy still crackling in the air, the echoes of screams and cheers fading into the background as the adrenaline slowly settled. yet, even as the minutes passed, as the crew bustled around in the post-show rush, you couldn’t ignore the lingering tension—the heat that simmered beneath the surface, unspoken but felt.

it wasn’t just in the way their bodies glistened with sweat, the aftereffects of giving themselves entirely to the stage. it was in the way their eyes would flicker toward you, those lingering, burning stares that they thought went unnoticed. but you noticed.

the way their gazes would darken, pupils blown wide with something hungry, something dangerous. the way their lips would part ever so slightly, damp from where they had been running their tongues over them between songs. how their fingers, still tingling with the energy of the performance, would graze against you—innocent at first glance, but the weight of their touch lingered, intentional, teasing.

to anyone else, it could have been dismissed—just fleeting glances, nothing more than a momentary connection with the crowd, the remnants of an electric performance still buzzing through them.

but you knew better.

you knew them too well.

you saw the way their eyes stayed on you longer than necessary, the way their lips would press together before being caught between their teeth, suppressing something they weren’t willing to say out loud.

and even without words, you understood it.

the stage was their release, but you were their aftermath.

you step into the room with the rest of them, the adrenaline from the performance still thrumming beneath your skin, a lingering hum that refuses to settle. your fingers work to remove your mic, the others doing the same, yet something feels different.

their eyes never leave you.

it’s subtle—calculated even—but you feel it, the weight of their stares pressing into you from every angle. the air in the room is thick, charged with something unspoken, something that has your breath hitching even as you try to appear unaffected.

it’s no secret that you’ve all grown accustomed to being in the same space, sharing moments like this after every show, coming down from the high of performing together. so when sunghoon is the first to strip off his shirt, it’s not shocking—not really.

but fuck, the sight of him still knocks the breath from your lungs.

his body is glistening, sweat trailing down the defined ridges of his abs, catching under the dim lighting of the dressing room. his chest rises and falls with every breath, the residual heat from the stage still evident in the way his muscles flex, his mouth parting in short, heavy huffs. there’s something so effortless about it, about the way he runs a hand through his damp hair, the way his gaze flickers toward you for the briefest moment, unreadable—dangerous.

riki, on the other hand, settles himself on the couch in the far corner of the room, stretching out with an air of ease, but his eyes tell a different story. they’re locked on you, watching, waiting, as if he’s amused by the slow, aching tension filling the space.

you busy yourself at the vanity, reaching for a makeup wipe, pretending to be unfazed as you slowly drag it across your skin. each swipe is deliberate, stalling—buying time.

but it does little to distract from the way the atmosphere has shifted, the way the silence crackles with something more, something heavier.

and the longer it stretches, the harder it is to ignore.

jungwon moves behind you with an ease that feels both familiar and calculated, his hands sliding over your shoulders before pressing down gently, kneading into the tension coiled beneath your skin. the warmth of his palms seeps into you, his touch slow, methodical, as if he knows exactly how to unravel the stiffness lingering in your muscles.

“it was fun today, no?” his voice is casual, almost too casual, but there’s something in the way he says it—something in the way his fingers linger a second too long against your skin, in the way his eyes stay fixed on yours through the mirror.

you swallow, nodding absentmindedly, though you’re hyperaware of the way the others shift around the room.

jay leans back against the arm of the couch, arms crossed, his gaze flickering between you and jungwon, but it’s sunoo who answers first.

“yeah… i liked it.”

his voice is lower than usual, a deep timbre that sends a shiver down your spine. it’s subtle, but it’s felt—the weight of his words sinking deep into the already thick atmosphere, pressing down on you like an invisible force.

your thighs squeeze together instinctively, the movement small, barely noticeable, but the way jay’s eyes darken at the sight tells you otherwise.

and then, heeseung speaks.

“you looked good, baby…”

the nickname rolls off his tongue effortlessly, as if it’s second nature, as if it doesn’t send a jolt of electricity through you every time you hear it. they’re all used to it by now—the way they call you baby, the way it slips into conversation so easily, so fluidly. but it always does something to you. always leaves your breath hitching ever so slightly, your fingers tightening around the makeup wipe in your hand as warmth spreads through your chest, through your core.

jungwon notices, his smirk barely concealed as his thumbs press a little deeper into your shoulders, his touch no longer just soothing, but something more.

you try to keep your composure, try to steady your breath, but the way their eyes are on you—the way the energy in the room has shifted from post-show exhaustion to something heavier, something charged—makes it impossible to ignore the way your thighs press together, just a little tighter.

jake moves toward the door with quiet purpose, the soft click of the lock falling into place echoing through the dimly lit room. he leans against it casually, arms crossed over his chest, but there’s something knowing in his gaze, something dark and unreadable that makes your stomach tighten.

“so pretty…” he murmurs, almost to himself, but you hear it—feel it—in the way his voice drops just slightly, in the way his eyes rake over your figure as he pushes off the door and strides toward you.

he comes to a stop beside you, towering over where you sit at the vanity, his presence heavy, his warmth radiating off him as his fingers move to the hem of his shirt. with an easy tug, he lifts it over his head, discarding the fabric without a second thought, leaving his toned torso bare to your widening gaze.

you huff softly, forcing yourself to ignore the way your pulse picks up, the way heat crawls up your spine. “i look like this every other day, guys…” you reply, trying to sound unaffected, your voice steady even as you shift in your seat.

but when you turn in the chair to fully face them, your resolve wavers.

your gaze trails over their bodies, drinking in the sight in front of you—some of them already shirtless, skin still glistening from the remnants of sweat, muscles flexing with each slow movement. others are in the process of ridding themselves of the last barriers of clothing, leaving nothing to the imagination.

jay catches the way your eyes flicker downward, the way your lips part slightly, how your fingers subtly grip onto the vanity as if to steady yourself. he leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees, a slow smirk creeping onto his face.

“like what you see, baby?” his voice is smooth, teasing, but there’s an underlying challenge in his tone, a flicker of amusement as he watches you, completely aware of how easily you’re slipping into the tension surrounding you.

your thighs press together instinctively, the movement small, barely noticeable—but they notice.

riki lets out a quiet chuckle from his place on the couch, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “aw, so cute…” he teases, voice laced with amusement, his grin widening when you try—and fail—to fight back your reaction.

your breath hitches as you feel jungwon’s hands tighten ever so slightly on your shoulders, his fingers pressing down into your skin, a silent reminder of how completely surrounded you are—how trapped you are.

and judging by the looks on their faces, they wouldn’t have it any other way.

“you guys are taking so fucking long with this…” sunghoon mutters, his voice edged with impatience, thick with something darker. his footsteps are slow, purposeful, the anticipation hanging heavy in the air as he makes his way toward you.

before you can react, his hands are on you, large and warm as they cup your bare face, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. his eyes are dark, hooded with hunger, and just as quickly as he reached you, his lips crash down on yours, devouring you in a way that leaves no room for hesitation.

he kisses you deeply, as if he’s been starving for the taste of you, as if every second wasted was unbearable. his tongue slips past your parted lips, claiming you in a slow, intoxicating rhythm that leaves you breathless.

meanwhile, jake’s hands are already working their way downward, sliding under the hem of your shirt, fingertips grazing along the heat of your skin before slipping under your bra. his touch is teasing, deliberate, his fingers seeking out your nipple before giving it a sharp, experimental pinch.

a soft gasp slips past your lips, swallowed instantly by sunghoon’s greedy mouth, and the reaction only spurs them on.

jungwon leans in from behind, his breath warm against your skin as his lips press soft kisses along the side of your neck, a contrast to the rough hands exploring your body. his kisses start gentle, slow and teasing, but it isn’t long before his tongue flicks out, his teeth grazing over your pulse point, making you shudder.

the others remain on the couch, watching, waiting, their gazes heavy on you as the ones surrounding you continue their attacks, hands and mouths working in tandem to rid you of every last piece of clothing.

fabric is peeled away, fingers ghosting over newly exposed skin, your body being unwrapped layer by layer, every inch of you becoming theirs to claim.

sunghoon pulls away from your lips only to seize your wrist, his grip firm yet guiding as he leads you toward the others. jake and jungwon are already seated, their bodies relaxed, but their eyes burn with anticipation, watching intently as sunghoon maneuvers you closer. the air is thick, heavy with something dangerous, something intoxicating, and the weight of their gazes alone has heat coiling low in your stomach.

positioning himself behind you, sunghoon’s hands move with slow, deliberate intent, his palms sliding over the curves of your body before settling on your breasts. his fingers knead into the soft flesh, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples, sending small jolts of pleasure coursing through your veins. but he doesn’t stop there—his hands continue their descent, trailing lower, his touch possessive as his fingers dip between your legs.

his lips brush against the shell of your ear, his voice low, commanding, laced with amusement as he murmurs, "spread your legs, baby. let them see how i’ll have you ruined from just my fingers."

the sheer filth of his words alone is enough to make you tremble, your breath hitching as you obediently part your thighs, your fingers tightening around his arms for support. the cool air against your exposed skin only amplifies your vulnerability, and you feel their eyes on you—watching, waiting, hungry.

lounging lazily against the couch, the others remain seated, but there’s nothing casual about their state. their bodies are tense, their chests rising and falling steadily, their dicks standing hard and proud, straining against the constraints of their boxers or resting bare against their stomachs. the view before them is too much—you, open and exposed, sunghoon’s hands already working to ruin you.

his fingers move deftly, flicking over your clit with practiced ease, the sharp sensation sending a full-body shudder through you. a soft gasp leaves your lips, involuntary, breathy, making the smirk on sunghoon’s face deepen.

“fuck, baby,” he groans, feeling the wetness pooling between your thighs as his fingers trail down your slick folds, spreading the mess you’ve already made. his cock twitches against your lower back, the simple feel of you enough to drive him insane.

without warning, he presses two fingers against your entrance, teasing, testing, before pushing in just enough to make you squirm.

“so fucking wet already…” he grunts, his eyes flickering up to the others, his smirk widening. “guess she likes putting on a show.”

he sets a torturously slow pace, his fingers slipping in and out of you with an agonizing precision, every movement deliberate, teasing. your walls flutter around the intrusion, gripping him greedily despite the languid rhythm, and sunghoon notices—of course he notices.

his lips graze the side of your neck, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine as he presses his fingers deeper, curling them just right, just enough to have your back arching against him.

"already so tight… and i haven’t even done shit," he chuckles, his tone thick with amusement, but there’s a flicker of something darker laced within it—something hungry.

a soft, shaky gasp falls from your lips, your eyes flickering to the others, heat spreading through your body at the sight before you.

jake and sunoo sit sprawled out in front of you, their hands palming over the hard bulges straining against their boxers, their eyes trained on you like a feast laid out before them. the slow, lazy way they touch themselves, the low grunts escaping from their throats, makes your thighs instinctively try to squeeze together—only to be stopped by sunghoon’s firm grip keeping them spread apart.

your pussy clenches involuntarily, a whimper slipping out before you can stop it.

sunghoon notices.

he feels the way your walls tighten around his fingers, the way your body reacts to the sight of the others getting off to you.

“she loves that shit, guys…” his voice drops lower, his smirk evident in his tone. “keep doing it.”

his words send a ripple of confirmation through the room, and within seconds, the others take the command without hesitation.

jake groans softly as his hand wrapping around the thick length, stroking himself slowly. sunoo follows, his grip tight around himself as his chest rises and falls, his lip caught between his teeth, his eyes never leaving you.

the air feels thicker, heavier, the tension unbearable as every pair of eyes in the room devours you, watches the way sunghoon plays with you, makes you drip around his fingers.

"such a fucking slut for us, huh?" jay’s voice cuts through the room, deep and taunting, his hand lazily stroking himself at the same pace as the others. "love seeing us jerk off, don’t you?"

your breath stutters, your skin burning at his words, at the raw filth of the situation unraveling around you.

sunghoon hums, pleased, his fingers picking up speed, thrusting into you with more purpose, his pace shifting from slow and teasing to steady and precise.

"sunghoon…" you whine, the sound coming out desperate, breathless, your fingers digging into his forearms as your body trembles against him.

but sunghoon only grins, his lips brushing against your ear as he coos, "be patient, baby… we’re just getting started."

“go faster, sunghoon,” heeseung orders, his voice low, almost strained, his eyes locked onto the sight of sunghoon’s fingers plunging in and out of you, slick with your arousal.

sunghoon obeys without hesitation, his fingers picking up speed, disappearing into you only to reappear glistening before thrusting back inside with an obscene wet sound. the sudden increase in pace sends a sharp wave of pleasure rolling through your body, a choked whine tumbling past your lips as your thighs tremble from the overwhelming sensation.

as if on cue, the others match the rhythm sunghoon sets, their hands moving faster over their lengths, the room filling with the soft, breathy moans and hushed groans of pleasure.

"so pretty, b-baby…" jungwon murmurs, his voice breathless, shaky, his brows furrowed in pure pleasure as his thumb rubs over his slit, spreading the slick precum that dribbles down his length. every flick of his touch makes his chest rise and fall unevenly, soft, broken whimpers escaping him, his lips parted in silent desperation.

the sight alone is too much. your walls clamp down around sunghoon’s fingers, your body reacting instinctively to the overwhelming heat pressing in from all sides.

a low, satisfied grunt vibrates from sunghoon’s chest at the feeling of you tightening around him, his lips curving into a smirk as he leans in closer. his breath is hot against your ear, his voice dripping with something dark, something possessive.

"fuck, baby… can't wait to feel this pussy wrapped around my cock."

his tongue darts out, wet and warm, dragging along the shell of your ear before he lightly sucks on the sensitive skin just below it.

"gonna have you begging for us to stop…"

the promise sends a violent shudder down your spine, your hands gripping onto his arms as your body tenses, the pleasure climbing too fast, too high, and you know—you know—there’s no coming back from this.

you can’t control it anymore—the soft, broken whines spilling from your lips, the way your body trembles in sunghoon’s hold, the way your chest rises and falls in ragged breaths. every word he whispers into your ear sends another shudder through you, another rush of heat pooling between your thighs, another sharp pulse of pleasure making you clench down around his fingers.

but it isn’t just him that has you falling apart—it’s them.

your heavy-lidded gaze flickers toward the others, your eyes skimming over their flushed faces, their lips parted as soft groans and hushed grunts escape them. but then—your attention is drawn elsewhere.

sunoo.

he’s losing himself.

his head is tilted back against the couch, his chest heaving, his whiny, breathless moans filling the room louder than anyone else’s. his thighs tremble, his hand working his length at a pace faster than the rest, his fingers tightening around himself as his slick precum coats every movement. his desperation is palpable, written in every expression, every quiver in his voice, every sharp gasp as his hips stutter up into his own grip.

and fuck, it ruins you.

your legs twitch, your breathing faltering as your body reacts to the sight of him—so utterly wrecked, so close to the edge, completely lost in the pleasure he’s chasing.

as if he feels you staring, his head slowly tips back up, his hooded, glazed-over eyes locking onto yours, his lips parted as another whimper escapes.

his dick twitches in his hand, his rhythm faltering, his jaw clenching as he tries—tries so fucking hard—to hold himself back.

but the way you look at him—so wrecked, so needy, so completely lost in it—only pushes him further.

“o-oh s-shit—!” sunoo moans, voice breaking as his body trembles, his dick twitching violently in his grip. his breath catches, his chest rising and falling in sharp, erratic movements as his orgasm crashes over him.

thick ropes of cum spill from his slit, coating his hand completely, dripping down his fingers in a sticky, messy display. his thighs shake uncontrollably, muscles tensing and relaxing in waves as he rides out his high, his head tilting back once more, lips parted in a silent moan, his entire body wrecked with pleasure.

the sight alone destroys you.

a sharp, shaky gasp tears from your throat, your eyes widening as your own pleasure surges to an unbearable peak. a loud, whimpering moan escapes your lips, high-pitched, breathless, your legs trembling as your walls clamp down hard around sunghoon’s fingers.

he notices immediately.

his smirk deepens, his pace picking up as he slams his fingers into you harder, curling them just right, just enough to send another pulse of white-hot pleasure shooting through your core.

“fuck—gonna cum just from watching sunoo, baby?” he taunts, voice low, teasing, but laced with something darker, something dangerous.

your breath stutters, your nails digging into his arms as he leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“right after i’m done with you,” he murmurs, his fingers still fucking into you relentlessly, his tone sending another shiver down your spine, “i wanna see how well you take him in your mouth, hm?”

his teeth graze your earlobe, his voice thick with amusement, with command.

“he deserves it, doesn’t he?”

the words alone push you over the edge.

your entire body shudders, your vision going hazy as the pleasure bursts through you, overwhelming and all-consuming.

a sharp, broken moan rips from your lips, your back arching as your orgasm crashes into you, your walls tightening around sunghoon’s fingers, your slick gushing down onto his hand.

"ahh—sunghoon!"

your legs tremble violently, your head tipping back onto his shoulder, your body completely falling apart in his arms. but sunghoon?

he just grins, watching you crumble, knowing they're only just getting started.

watching the way sunghoon’s fingers are completely drenched, glistening with your release as your body trembles from the aftershocks, is what finally pushes the rest of them over the edge.

one by one, deep, ragged grunts and breathless moans fill the room, their bodies tensing, their hands working themselves through the final strokes as their cocks twitch violently. thick ropes of cum spill over their fingers, coating their skin, dripping down their lengths in a mess of heat and pleasure. their chests rise and fall in heavy, uneven breaths, their gazes still locked onto you, watching the way you shake in sunghoon’s lap, completely wrecked.

but you don’t stop.

once you finally manage to collect yourself, you shift forward, crawling toward riki, your movements slow, deliberate. his legs are spread lazily, his head tilted back slightly as he tries to recover from the intensity of his orgasm. but the moment you settle between his thighs, his heavy-lidded gaze flickers down to you, breath hitching as he watches your fingers swipe across his thigh, gathering up the warm, sticky mess he left behind.

your tongue darts out, licking your fingers clean, your lips wrapping around them as you moan softly, savoring the taste. riki watches you, completely entranced, his chest still rising and falling rapidly from how hard he just came.

his body shudders when you finally wrap your fingers around his length, feeling how sensitive he still is, your other hand reaching out to jay, who sits right next to him. both of them twitch at your touch, their overstimulated cocks throbbing in your grasp as you start to stroke them, setting a steady, teasing pace.

jay’s lips part in a sharp exhale, his head falling back slightly as his hips jerk up into your hand, already desperate for more friction.

riki, on the other hand, is more impatient.

"baby, put it in your mouth already, fuck..." his voice is strained, breathless, thick with need. his fingers thread into your hair, his grip just firm enough to make your core throb, his hips shifting beneath you as he chases the heat of your mouth.

but before you can react, before you can take either of them in, you feel it—someone pressing up behind you, their body heat melting against your back, their presence undeniable.

a quiet, breathy whimper escapes from them, the softest sound, barely above a whisper, but you know exactly who it is.

sunoo.

his cock drags along your soaked folds, teasing, testing, his whine growing needier at the feeling of how wet you still are for them.

his lips brush against the back of your shoulder, his voice a hushed plea, dripping with desperation as he rocks his hips forward, barely pressing into you.

"come on, baby… take them in that pretty mouth while i fuck you so good..."

sunoo pushes himself in with one slow, deep thrust, a loud, breathy whine escaping his lips as your walls clamp down around him. his cock stretches you so good, so full, the thickness of him pressing against every nerve, making you cry out in a sharp, gasping moan.

"uh—sunoo, fuck…!" the words barely leave your lips before your body reacts instinctively, the overwhelming pleasure making you tighten your grip around both riki and jay.

their reactions are immediate.

riki groans, his hips bucking slightly at the feeling of your fingers squeezing around him, his patience wearing dangerously thin. his grip tightens in your hair, firm but not painful, his fingers threading through the strands as he tugs your head down toward his aching cock.

"open up, baby." his voice is low, demanding, thick with frustration and need.

you obey without thinking, your lips parting to take him in, the weight of him heavy against your tongue as your mouth stretches around his length. the moment you wrap your lips around him, riki moans, deep and breathless, his hips jerking up almost immediately, forcing you to take him deeper.

"fuck—might even just fuck your mouth…" he murmurs, his voice breaking slightly as he thrusts up into you, the heat of your tongue sending jolts of pleasure straight through him.

meanwhile, jay is already teetering on the edge, his cock twitching in your grip from the overstimulation, every touch sending him spiraling. your thumb swipes over his sensitive tip, smearing the precum that beads there, and a shudder wracks through his body.

"fuck, yes—just like that, baby…" jay moans, his chest rising and falling heavily as his hands wrap around yours, guiding you to stroke him just the way he needs. his hips move in tandem with your hand, sharp jerks upward as his head tilts back, mouth parted in silent pleasure.

behind you, sunoo’s grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh as his pace shifts—slow, teasing thrusts replaced by something desperate, unrelenting. his hips snap against yours, fucking into you fast, each deep stroke sending a sharp, blissful jolt straight to your core.

your tits bounce aggressively from the force of his thrusts, the movement catching the attention of the others, who have been watching—waiting—stroking themselves as they take in the filthy scene before them.

jake, heeseung, jungwon, and sunghoon move in closer, their cocks heavy in their hands, precum already dripping down their lengths. jake is the closest, his breath ragged, his rhythm fast, his grip tight around himself as he watches the way sunoo pounds into you, the way your lips are wrapped so perfectly around riki.

"fuck, baby…" jake groans, his voice thick, nearly breathless.

he’s close—they all are.

and with the way sunoo is fucking you, the way riki is fucking your mouth, and the way your hand is working over jay, it’s only a matter of time before they completely fall apart for you.

jungwon is the first to break.

his breath stutters, sharp and uneven, his body tensing as his release bursts out in thick, hot spurts, painting your lips and tongue with his cum. his head falls back, a choked moan slipping past his swollen lips as his body shakes, overstimulated and utterly wrecked. his fingers tighten in your hair, his hips jerking slightly as he rides out the waves of pleasure, his cum dripping down your chin, warm and sticky.

the taste of him floods your mouth, mixing with the heat already burning inside you, and you let out a deep, muffled moan around riki’s cock. the vibrations send a sharp jolt of pleasure up his spine, his thighs twitching as his fingers spasm against your scalp.

"oh fuck—" riki groans, his voice breaking, breathless and desperate.

his hips jerk up into your mouth, chasing the high that’s been building inside him, his pace turning erratic, almost frantic. every sharp thrust makes your throat tighten around him, makes his breath hitch higher, makes the tension coil impossibly tight in his core.

"i’m gonna cum—"

his words are almost slurred, lost in the haze of pleasure, and just as your pussy clenches hard around sunoo’s cock, the sensation is too much—for both of them.

sunoo loses it, his entire body trembling behind you as high-pitched, broken moans spill from his lips, sounding more like helpless sobs than anything else.

"oh shit, shit, shit—!"

his grip on your waist turns bruising, his fingers pressing deep into your skin as his thrusts turn messy, desperate, his cock twitching wildly inside you. the overwhelming tightness, the warmth of you squeezing around him, sends him crashing over the edge with a strangled cry.

at the same moment, riki's hips snap up one last time, his grip on your hair tightening, holding you in place as he spills deep into your mouth. thick ropes of cum flood your throat, hot and heavy, the salty taste coating your tongue as his thighs tremble beneath you.

sunoo moans loudly, burying himself deep as he fills you completely, his cum spilling into you in pulsing waves, the heat of it pooling inside, dripping down your thighs with every weak thrust he forces in after.

riki’s breath comes out in sharp, shallow pants, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his body slumps back against the couch, fingers still tangled in your hair as he watches you swallow every drop of him.

sunoo collapses against your back, forehead pressed against your shoulder, soft whimpers still slipping from his lips as his cock twitches inside your still-clenching walls, milking him for everything he has.

once you finally pull away from riki, a soft, breathless whimper escapes your lips, your throat already sore from the way he used your mouth. you tilt your head back slightly, swallowing down every drop of his release, savoring the way it coats your tongue before your attention flickers to jay.

his expression is utterly wrecked, his eyes dark and desperate as his fingers tangle in your hair, guiding you toward him with a low, strained groan. without hesitation, you part your lips, wrapping them around his aching cock, the warmth of your mouth making his entire body shudder as he lets out a sharp, "fuck—yes, baby, just like that."

his hips jerk forward instinctively, fucking into your mouth at a quick, desperate pace, the wet heat of your tongue dragging along his length pushing him dangerously close. your hands grip onto his thighs for support, feeling the way they tense beneath your touch, his body unraveling under you.

"hmph—s-shit, oh my god…" his voice breaks into a breathy moan as his pace stutters, his cock twitching between your lips before he bursts, spilling hot and thick straight down your throat.

jay’s head tilts back, his chest heaving as he groans through the aftershocks, his fingers tugging your hair just slightly before he finally releases you, watching with hooded eyes as you swallow his cum without hesitation.

but before you can fully process anything, you feel yourself being pushed forward, sunoo’s warmth disappearing from behind you as heeseung takes his place. his presence is overwhelming, demanding, his hands already exploring your body with purpose.

his fingers dip between your legs without warning, collecting the mess sunoo left inside you, scooping up the warm, sticky cum only to push it back in, watching the way it slides from your entrance and drips down toward your clit.

"gonna have you filled up to the fucking brim, baby…"

his voice is thick, dripping with something dark, something dangerous, and that’s the only warning you get before heeseung slams into you in one deep, brutal thrust.

your breath leaves you in a sharp, choked gasp, your body already too wrecked to react properly, every muscle trembling as you try to ground yourself. but before you can even adjust, before you can fully feel the way he stretches you open, there’s movement in front of you.

the others shift, their bodies repositioning, and as your vision clears, you find yourself once again face to face with more of them—three this time.

sunghoon, jungwon, and jake.

jake and sunghoon flank your sides while jungwon sits directly in the middle, all three of them watching you with dark, expectant eyes, their cocks heavy, glistening, waiting.

and they don’t need to tell you what to do.

as if instinctively, their hands find your hair, guiding your head downward, parting your lips with ease as they take turns fucking into your mouth.

your eyes flutter shut, the overwhelming sensation sending another pulse of pleasure straight to your core. the feeling of heeseung slamming into you from behind while the three in front of you use your mouth sends your mind spiraling, every part of your body consumed by them, by this.

"so fucking perfect for me, oh my god…" sunghoon moans, his voice thick with satisfaction as he watches the way your lips wrap around him so perfectly.

his cock nudges against the back of your throat, making you gag around him, the sensation only fueling him on, his hips snapping forward with more force, more desperation.

"you were fucking made for this, baby."

sunghoon doesn’t last much longer, his breath turning ragged, his grip on your head tightening as his thrusts grow erratic. his cock twitches violently, every muscle in his body going taut as his release bursts forward, hot and thick, spilling into your mouth. his head tilts back, a deep, guttural groan leaving his lips as the last spurts of his orgasm paint your tongue.

you try to swallow, try to keep up, but some of it escapes, trailing down your chin in slow, sticky rivulets.

before you can fully recover, before you can even take a proper breath, jungwon’s fingers are threading through your hair, gripping tight as he pulls you onto him, guiding you down until your lips stretch wide around him.

"fuck—take it, baby," he growls, his voice thick, filled with something dark.

your nose presses flush against his abdomen, his cock buried deep in your throat as he groans, his body tensing beneath your touch. you feel the way his hips jerk forward ever so slightly, the way his cock pulses hard, and then—he cums.

thick, hot ropes of it shoot straight down your throat, mixing with sunghoon’s, the sheer amount of it making your eyes squeeze shut as you struggle to take it all. you swallow as best as you can, throat tightening around him, but it’s too much—your body betrays you, choking slightly as you try to breathe through the overwhelming sensation.

"fuck, baby—shit…" jungwon grunts, his head tilting down to watch the way your eyes water, the way your throat works around him.

the sight pushes them further.

his grip tightens, forcing your head up, making you choke, your body convulsing slightly as you gasp for air, spit and cum dripping from your lips in messy, glistening strings.

but your breathy, broken whimpers are drowned out by another sharp, desperate moan—jake.

he barely manages to get out a warning before his hips jerk forward, his cock twitching violently as he spills onto your already-wrecked face, hot, sticky ropes of cum painting your cheeks, your lips, dripping down onto your collarbone.

*"fucking—shit!" jake groans, his voice wrecked, his hands tightening into fists as his body shudders from the force of his release.

your chest heaves, your fingers gripping desperately onto sunghoon and jungwon’s thighs as the mess coats your skin, your body trembling under their hands.

"ugh—s’much…" you whimper, voice barely above a breath, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of everything—by the way your body is covered, by the way the heat of it clings to your skin.

but heeseung doesn’t slow.

his thrusts are still deep, still relentless, his fingers digging into your hips as he uses you with no restraint. your walls flutter, clenching down hard around him, every sharp movement making you gasp, making your moans break between desperate, choked sobs of pleasure.

heeseung groans, his breath hot against your skin as his pace stutters—and then, all at once, he snaps, burying himself deep as his body convulses behind you.

his release pours into you, filling you completely, spilling out in thick dribbles as his hips twitch through the aftershocks.

your vision blurs, your mind going blank as your own orgasm crashes over you, your body shaking, trembling as wave after wave of blinding pleasure consumes you.

the only sounds that fill the room are heavy, ragged breaths, the thick, lingering scent of sex hanging in the air like a fog.

your body slumps forward, completely spent, the warmth of their bodies surrounding you, trapping you in the aftermath of everything that just happened.

and even through the haze, through the exhaustion threatening to pull you under, you know—they’re not done with you yet.

natty's notes ᝰ.ᐟ had so many request for enha x reader/ 8th member reader, so i hope you all enjoyed it !!

[nilla03]

𝘼𝘽𝙊𝙑𝙀 & 𝘽𝙀𝙔𝙊𝙉𝘿𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 : 𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒋𝒊!

𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒔: 𝑠𝑒𝑚𝑖 𝑝𝑢𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑐 𝑠𝑒𝑥, 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑖𝑚𝑔 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑛𝑔, 𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑒, 𝑐𝑎𝑟 𝑠𝑒𝑥

𝒑𝒍𝒐𝒕: 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒐 𝒐𝒏 𝒂 𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒐𝒋𝒊 დ

His Tinder pictures had been dangerous enough—a few casual shots, a grainy gym selfie, one where he was holding a stupidly big fish. But in person? Toji Fushiguro was something else entirely.

Broad, thick, and lounging in the dim booth like he had nothing better to do than watch you lose your mind over him

Because it wasn’t fair how effortlessly attractive he was, how his black button-down strained around his biceps, how his forearms flexed when he adjusted the sleeves. He’d ordered a whiskey neat, barely glanced at the menu, and then spent the next twenty minutes watching you toy with your straw like a nervous little thing.

“You always this quiet, sweetheart?” His voice was deep, gravelly, and way too amused.

You forced yourself to smile. “I talk.”

“To who? Your little dating app matches?” He smirked, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “How many you got lined up after me?”

You scoffed, but your fingers were tight around your drink. “You think I’m a serial dater?”

“I think,” he drawled, eyes dark under heavy lashes, “you’re a cute little thing who has no idea what to do with herself right now.”

You could barely eat, barely sip your drink. The way his gaze kept dropping—lazily, knowingly—to your lips, your chest, the hem of your little dress riding up your thighs. It was all too much.

You weren’t even sure how it happened, who broke first.

One minute, Toji was tossing a couple of bills onto the table, the next, you were pressed against the sleek leather of his car, panting into his mouth as he dragged you into his lap.

“Fuckin’ knew it,” he rasped, fingers digging into your thighs. “Knew you were all worked up. You been dripping since we sat down, huh?”

You whimpered against his lips, rocking forward instinctively, and he groaned, big hands sliding up your ass, gripping tight.

“You shoulda just said somethin’, baby,” he murmured, licking into your mouth like he was starving. “Woulda bent you over the table.”

The mental image made you whimper, nails clawing at his shoulders.

He chuckled, teeth grazing your jaw as he shoved your dress up, rough palms kneading your bare skin. “Yeah? That what you want? Me playin’ with you in public, makin’ a mess of you in front of all those people?”

You shook your head quickly, but the way your hips rolled against him betrayed you.

Toji groaned, dragging you closer, letting you feel the hard, thick length of his cock pressing against your soaked panties. “Lyin’ little thing,” he muttered, pulling the flimsy fabric to the side, thick fingers slipping through your slick folds.

“Shit,” he hissed, middle finger teasing at your entrance. “You’re fuckin’ soaked.”

“Been—been like that,” you admitted, voice shaky.

That earned you a dark chuckle, his hand slipping lower, pushing one thick finger inside you.

You gasped, walls fluttering around the intrusion, but Toji just groaned, lifting his hips to grind against you.

“Shit, you’re tight,” he muttered, adding a second finger, stretching you open, his thumb rubbing messy, slow circles against your clit.

You were a mess already, clinging to him, legs trembling as he worked you open, his mouth hot against your neck, teeth scraping your skin.

“Gonna let me fuck you in my car, princess?” he murmured, curling his fingers just right, making your breath hitch. “Gonna let me wreck this pretty little pussy?”

“Fuck, baby,” he muttered, gripping your hips and grinding you down against him, letting you feel the full, thick press of him through his slacks. “You know what you’re doin’, sittin’ all pretty in my lap, whimperin’ like that.”

You barely had the sense to shake your head, eyes hazy, lips swollen from his kisses. “N-no, I—”

“No?” He smirked, pressing you down harder, making you keen. “This little dress, these pretty panties—” his fingers toyed with the lace before snapping the waistband against your skin, making you jolt. “Come on, sweetheart. You think I don’t know a needy little thing when I see one?”

You shuddered, hands fisting in his shirt, and Toji growled, impatient.

“Take ‘em off.”

You barely managed to lift your hips before he was yanking your panties down, shoving them into his pocket like he was collecting a prize. Then, strong hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wide over him, letting the cool air kiss your soaked folds.

“Fuck,” he murmured, one big hand dragging up your thigh, thumb grazing the messy slick coating your skin. “Look at you.”

You whimpered, face burning, but he didn’t give you a second to get shy. His hands gripped your ass, guiding you forward until your bare pussy was sliding along the thick bulge in his pants.

The friction was too much—too hot, too good. You moaned, clutching his shoulders, hips moving instinctively, chasing the sensation.

Toji groaned, head tipping back against the headrest, his hands tightening on you. “That’s it, baby,” he muttered, voice rough. “Use me.”

Your cheeks burned, but you couldn’t stop, couldn’t think. He was so thick, so hard beneath you, and the slow drag of his clothed cock against your bare, slick folds was driving you insane.

You sobbed, hips rolling in desperate little movements, thighs shaking.

Toji groaned, watching you with half-lidded eyes, his jaw clenched. “Goddamn,” he muttered, voice low, thick. “Look at you, fuckin’ yourself on me like a needy little thing.” You whimpered, burying your face in his neck, overwhelmed.

But he wasn’t having that. One big hand gripped your chin, forcing your gaze back to his. “Nah, pretty girl. You wanted this, didn’t you? Wanted to get all worked up over dinner, let me take you out here and make a mess of you.”

Toji smirked, dark and mean, and suddenly, he was undoing his belt. “Alright, baby,” he rasped, shoving his slacks down just enough to free himself.

Thick. Heavy. Leaking at the tip.

Toji caught the way your thighs squeezed together and chuckled, rubbing the fat head of his cock against your dripping folds.

“Go on, princess,” he murmured, guiding you up, his tip catching against your entrance. “Sit that pretty pussy down on me.”

Your breath caught as Toji’s thick head pressed against your entrance, teasing, stretching, the barest push making you tremble. He didn’t rush, didn’t force—just held you there, gripping your hips, watching with dark, hooded eyes as you struggled to take him.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice rough, laced with hunger. “You can do it. Just a little more.”

You whined, nails digging into his shoulders, overwhelmed. He was too thick, too big, and the slow burn of him stretching you open had your thighs shaking.

Toji groaned, pressing a hand to your lower belly, feeling the way he was sinking into you, inch by inch. “Shit,” he muttered. “So tight, baby. You feel that?” He gave the lightest push, and you gasped, clenching around him. “Feel me deep in there?”

You nodded frantically, eyes glassy, mouth parted on a whimper.

He chuckled, dark and low, gripping your hips and pulling you down another inch.

You sobbed, thighs squeezing around his waist, toes curling in your heels.

Toji groaned, head tipping back against the seat, his hands flexing against your soft skin. “Fuck,” he rasped, voice raw. “This pussy’s a goddamn dream.”

Your head was spinning, legs trembling as he filled you, splitting you open in slow, agonizing inches.

“Breathe, baby,” Toji murmured, soothing but smug, stroking a rough hand up your spine. “Takin’ me so fuckin’ good.”

You tried, tried to steady yourself, but the stretch was so much, the pressure so intense—your walls fluttered around him, struggling to accommodate the sheer size of him.

Toji let out a low, satisfied groan, his fingers digging into your ass. “There she is,” he murmured, eyes dark, hooded with lust. “Knew you could take it.”

You barely had time to adjust before he shifted beneath you, planting his feet against the car floor.

You choked on a gasp, hands flying to his chest, nails biting into the fabric of his shirt.

Toji grinned, mean, before doing it again, forcing a desperate moan from your lips. “Fuckin’ perfect,” he muttered, dragging you forward, making you take him deeper. “Look at you, baby—sittin’ on my cock like you were made for it.”

You could barely think, barely breathe. Every inch of him stretched you so full, pressing into every sensitive spot, hitting deep, so deep—

Toji groaned, rolling his hips, slow and deliberate, watching the way your body trembled. “You feel it, don’t you?” he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction. “Feel how good I stretch this pretty little pussy?”

You whimpered, nodding weakly, and he chuckled, dragging his thumb down to your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles.

Your hands clawed at his chest, desperate, overwhelmed, hips jerking as he kept you trapped, held you there, letting you feel every thick inch of him.

“Gonna make a mess on me already, baby?” he murmured, pressing you down harder.

You sobbed, thighs shaking, the coil in your belly tightening too fast, too much-Toji growled, fingers tightening on your hips. “Go on, sweetheart,” he muttered, picking up the pace, fucking up into you with slow, deep thrusts. “Cum on my cock”

Your whole body tensed, a sharp gasp breaking from your lips as the pressure inside you snapped. Your vision blurred, head tipping back as pleasure crashed over you in waves, your walls clenching down around him.

Toji groaned, teeth gritted, his grip bruising as he fucked you through it, dragging every last tremor from your shaking frame. “That’s it, baby,” he rasped, voice thick, his pace turning rougher, sloppier. “Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me so tight—”

“Gonna fill you up, princess,” he muttered, thumb pressing into your swollen clit, making you jolt. “Stuff this little pussy full—“

With a deep, shuddering groan, Toji buried himself to the hilt, his grip on you unrelenting as he spilled inside, thick and hot.

You barely had the strength to move, panting against his shoulder, body trembling, slick and sweat-damp against his chest.

Toji huffed a low chuckle, one hand smoothing up your back, the other gripping your thigh possessively. “Shit, baby,” he murmured, pressing a slow, lazy kiss to your temple. “Next time, we’re skipping dinner.”

[hsnlv]

enhypen!hyung line reaction to…

your stupid tiktok joke?

warnings/others: fluff?, suggestive joke (ifffff you squint actually lmfaoo)

a/n: i dont how to put out a layout for this one but i hope you enjoy it regardless :0 reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! 💗here’s my masterlist!💗

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ lee heeseung ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

“im bored. we should kiss.”

you glare at heeseung as he lounges on your bed, completely absorbed in his phone. your boyfriend—the one who came over claiming he missed you sooo much—is now here, ignoring you like you’re just part of the furniture.

“hee…” you whine, shifting closer to him, trying to steal even a sliver of his attention. but apparently, whatever’s on his screen is far more fascinating than you, because all you get in return is a halfhearted, unbothered “hm.”

oh, that’s it.

a lightbulb flickers in your mind as you remember something, and before you can stop yourself, you clear your throat dramatically and mumble, “baby, i’m bored. we should kiss.”

cue instant chaos.

heeseung, mid-sip of his water, suddenly chokes—his eyes widening as he coughs, frantically trying not to die. “w-what was that, bun?” he sputters, still recovering.

you blink at him innocently, gasping as if you’re shocked beyond belief. “gasp! who said that?!” you clutch your chest like you just heard the most scandalous thing in the world. “that’s crazy! so bold! so shameless!”

heeseung squints at you, lips twitching in amusement. “oh? so it wasn’t you?”

you shake your head furiously, eyes wide. “nope! absolutely not! it was probably the wind… or maybe a ghost!” you gasp again, pointing at him dramatically. “oh no! what if our house is haunted by a really romantic ghost?!”

heeseung finally breaks, a giggle escaping him as he tosses his phone aside and pulls you into his arms. “a romantic ghost, huh? well, i guess i better listen to its request.”

and before you can come up with another ridiculous excuse, he’s already leaning in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. park jongseong ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

“the matter baby? whats the matter baby?”

it’s movie night, and you and jay are curled up on the couch, but there’s just one problem.

jay is glued to his phone.

not paying attention to the movie. not paying attention to you. just scrolling.

you squint at him. this is blatant disrespect.

so, naturally, you decide to fix it.

“jay,” you say sweetly, shifting closer.

“hm?” he replies, still not looking up.

you fight back a smirk. “would you rather eat a baby goat or the matter baby?”

“the matter baby?” he asks, completely oblivious.

“what’s the matter, baby?”

his thumb freezes.

his entire body goes rigid.

you watch as his brain malfunctions in real-time.

his eyes narrow, his jaw slightly dropping as realization smacks him in the face. “did you just—”

“nothing, sugar! how about you?” you cut him off, smiling innocently.

he stares. blinks once. twice.

and then, with zero warning, he lunges at you.

“YOU DID NOT JUST GET ME WITH THAT STUPID JOKE.”

you shriek, scrambling to escape, but jay is faster, stronger, and fueled by vengeance.

he tackles you onto the couch, trapping you beneath him as he straddles you.

“oh my god, you’re so mad right now!” you giggle, completely unbothered by the fact that you’re literally being held hostage.

“mad? no,” he smirks. “i just think you deserve punishment.”

“jay, no—”

too late.

his hands dive straight for your sides, and suddenly, you’re screaming with laughter, kicking and flailing as he mercilessly tickles you.

“say you’re sorry!” he demands, grinning.

“never!” you gasp between giggles, tears forming in your eyes.

“fine.” he leans down, lowering his voice. “i was gonna stop, but since you’re so stubborn…”

“JAY—”

the next few minutes are pure chaos, filled with screaming, thrashing, and a ridiculous amount of laughing.

somehow, you both end up in a tangled heap, breathless and giggling, his phone long forgotten on the floor.

mission: accomplished.

૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა sim jaeyun ૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა

“shh, dont talk too loud. it’s not good for the baby.”

jake has been nagging you non-stop for the past ten minutes, pacing around the room like a worried mother. and all because you forgot to lock the door when he left for groceries.

“baby, this is a serious matter,” he huffs, hands on his hips. “what— what if someone broke in and killed you or something? we do not want that—”

you groan, dramatically flopping onto the bed. yes, okay, he has a point. but in your defense, you were way too lazy to get up, and it’s not like he was gone for that long anyway.

and then, a lightbulb flickers in your head.

“hey, jake,” you cut him off mid-rant, voice suddenly soft and serious.

he stops, blinking at you. “what?”

you grab his hand gently and whisper, “shh, don’t talk too loud… it’s not good for the baby.”

jake freezes. you watch as about a thousand thoughts seem to hit him at once. “baby? what baby?”

“me,” you pout, clutching his hand tighter. “i’m the baby.”

his entire demeanor changes in a second. his sharp gaze softens, his lips twitching like he’s trying not to melt. “oh my god,” he mutters, running a hand over his face.

you double down, widening your eyes at him like some sort of helpless, delicate creature. “you were yelling,” you whisper dramatically. “scaring the baby…”

jake snorts, shaking his head as he finally cracks, wrapping his arms around you and squishing you into his chest. “you are so insufferable,” he mutters, laughing into your hair. “but ugh, fine. my poor baby.”

you grin, smug at your victory.

except—

“but,” jake suddenly pulls back, holding your face between his hands, his soft tone turning into a firm one again. “my big baby still needs to lock the door when i leave, okay?”

you groan. “ugh, jake—”

“nope,” he shakes his head, pecking your forehead to shut you up. “no arguments, baby. i will nag you forever if i have to.”

“forever?” you blink.

“forever.”

…you don’t know whether to be fond or terrified.

˚⊱🎀⊰˚park sunghoon ˚⊱🎀⊰˚

“i dont know whats gotten into me but i wish it was you.”

you lazily trace random patterns on sunghoon’s chest, humming softly as he absentmindedly plays with your hair.

“you’re awfully quiet today, hm?” he murmurs, his fingers still threading through your strands. he presses a quick kiss to the top of your head, as if trying to snap you out of your daze.

perfect. he fell right into your trap.

you smirk against his chest before quickly wiping it away, putting on your most innocent, vulnerable expression. you clear your throat dramatically.

“i don’t know what’s gotten into me lately, hoonie…” you mumble, voice just the right mix of soft and mysterious.

his phone is instantly forgotten. his whole body tenses as he tilts his head down at you, his eyes now filled with concern.

“hm?” he hums, his fingers pausing in your hair.

“but…” you sigh dramatically, tightening your grip on his shirt. “i wish it was you.”

silence.

you feel his chest rise and fall, but he doesn’t say a single word. you slowly peek up at him, and oh, wow.

his brain is completely fried.

his lips part slightly, his eyebrows furrowed, and his usually sharp gaze looks… empty.

“wait.” he blinks once. then twice. “what—”

before he can even process the joke, he suddenly moves.

with a swift motion, he pushes you down onto the bed, hovering over you with a deadpan expression.

“you think you’re funny, huh?” his voice is low, but there’s a hint of amusement laced in it.

you burst into giggles, squirming under him. “i know i’m funny!”

he narrows his eyes before suddenly attacking your sides with tickles.

“hoon— hoon, stop—” you shriek, flailing under him as he mercilessly tickles you, a smirk finally tugging at his lips.

“oh no, baby,” he teases, tilting his head. “you brought this on yourself.”

“i take it back! i take it back!” you cry out, but he only laughs, enjoying the way you’re practically gasping for air between your giggles.

when he finally stops, he hovers above you, his face just inches away.

“next time, i’ll really get into you,” he murmurs with a smirk, before pressing a soft, lingering kiss on your lips.

…yeah, joke’s on you.

©️ all rights reserved | hsnlv | 2025

[delilahsturniolo]

— ୨୧ matt apologizes to you after an argument

contains angst, fluff.

silence filled the room as you sat on matt’s bed, with your knees tucked to your chest. your gaze was focused on your lap, as your eyes glossed over with tears. all you could even think about was matt, guilt filled your chest. you hated when someone you loved was mad at you, especially your own boyfriend. you and matt had gotten into a pretty heated argument a few hours ago about not having enough time for each other.

there was yelling, screaming, crying. it was something that’s been haunting you for the past few hours, something you just wanted to be over. matt never ever dared to yell at you, and you never wanted to argue with him in the first place. it was all just built up stress and frustration from the past few days, and you just had an outburst. matt decided to leave you alone for now, you were too upset for him to talk to you.

you sniffled, letting out a soft sob as your warm tears spilled over. you felt so fucking guilty, you hadn’t even shown matt how much you loved him in the past few days, you had been so busy and stressed out. you understood why he was angry, you just wished you could do better. as you cried to yourself, you abruptly stopped as you heard a soft knock on the door. matt.

“baby? are you in here?” matt spoke, his voice as soft as a whisper. you sniffled, wiping your tears sloppily. “yeah.” your voice broke, fuck. matt noticed this, he knew you were crying, and it devastated him. he never wanted to make you cry in the first place. “is it okay if i come in?” matt asked, you let out a small “mhm”, sitting up properly as matt entered the room.

the door slowly creaked open, matt shut it behind him after he walked in. his gaze immediately went over to you, he was no longer angry, now he just wanted to make things right, he wanted to show you how much he cared, despite the fact that he was still a little upset about earlier. matt sighed softly, sitting down on his bed in front of you. “look at me.” matt instructed, his voice softer than earlier, but still firm.

matt gently brushed a piece of your hair behind your ears as you slowly looked up at him. his heart sank at the sight of your puffy eyes and tear streaked face. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry. i shouldn’t have yelled at you.” matt blurted out, the guilt was eating him up inside, it was unbearable. “i’m not here to hurt you, i want you to know i love you, okay?” matt gently leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before pulling you into his arms. you nodded, muttering a small “i love you” as you allowed yourself to completely collapse in matt’s arms, you both knew you couldn’t stay mad at each other forever.

“i’m sorry too, i just wish i could be better for you.” you muttered, sniffling into matt’s shoulder. he only shook his head, making you lift your head up to look at him. “you’re doing amazing, honey. you didn’t do anything wrong, you’re perfect the way you are, and i love you more than anything, alright? don’t worry about it right now, you have nothing to be sorry for.” matt reassured you, you immediately felt better, realizing how much he cared for you.

matt delicately hushed you, his hand rubbing your back in circular motions as you rested your head on his shoulder. you were just tired now, so much relief filled your body. “you can sleep, sweetheart. i’ll be here.” matt hummed quietly, rocking you back and forth in his arms.

despite how bad you guys fought, you still loved each other. despite how upset matt was at you earlier, he was still madly in love with you. he was mature enough to apologize first, even though sometimes you could be stubborn after fighting, you knew matt didn’t mean anything at all. matt’s top priority as of right now was making sure you knew how much he cared about you, and how he was no longer angry with you. he loved you so much.

© delilahsturniolo do not copy, re use, or modify any of my works.

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[twistedpink]

My favourite thing about writing is probably just putting my little guys into situations- And what’s hotter than being in an apocalypse??

Survivor!Trey that lets you into his little slice of life, his home, his bed, because he’s terrified. Of the not-quite-people outside the door, or the loneliness you’re not sure, But the way he clutches and whimpers into the thick leather of your jacket says enough- He never could’ve survived this long without you, probably would have dried up in a corner of your little cabin with the cobwebs and dustbunnies. But he’ll never have to worry about that, because you’re capable. And too in love with his care packages to leave ;) So good for him, always getting supplies and reinforcing barriers when he’s too busy with household chores.. He couldn’t ask for a better partner, and one day you’ll see the world as something to be explored again, together <3

Survivor!Ruggie that drives you around the abandoned town you hide away in- For a price. When he gets low on gas and your pantry’s empty, you walk the streets hand in hand to scavenge. Sometimes, when you have the luxury of sitting down for a meal, his thumb traces shapes into your filthy palm.. You say you love him, when you have the time. You make the realization that if the world was clean, whole, that you never would’ve said something like that to a man like him. Both of you are at your worst, and you’re not sure it’ll ever get better.. He says he loves you, when you’re not just a client, but he’s loved you since before the world ended. Always pining. Being here with you’s a dream come true, even if you’re with him by necessity <3

Zombie!Jack that you have on a metal chain and lead around on the hiking trails you used to walk- Hoping for him to remember something, anything, but he only snaps at squirrels and flinches at your touch. A shell of your Highschool sweetheart, he wouldn’t dream of turning you (which he’d express, if he still had a tongue), you can tell he’s starving by that guilty look he’s wearing. You need him to eat. There’s no point in living if you can’t cure him, get him back, but he’s stubborn even in death.. Once you get desperate enough, you’ll just kiss him- The saliva’ll be enough to start the process, then you’ll be together. Forever. <3

Survivor!Kalim that keens into the plump, soft skin of your thighs from the comfort of your million-dollar shelter. He’s trying his very best to keep you comfortable, even if the world’s a “little” crazy at the moment, he’s sure you won’t have any problems with your QOL :) Especially since that’s your only explanation. You spend most of your days in bed on account of your husband being the only conversation available- Even if he’s a professional talker, it makes you miss the stoic kindness of his bodyguard, Jamil, or the Sly optimism of your accountant, Azul. Your staff were always so nice.. You wonder where they keep disappearing to. You’ll be seeing them soon, but not if your loving husband has anything to say about it <3

Survivor!Rook that’s a hunter by heart- Teaching you to survey and gather, to survive. You’re forced into an urban area by the very prey you track, always seemingly at a disadvantage. He wants nothing more than to retire to the woods, letting you shack up in a cabin he gets to build, protecting his greatest bounty. But you’re too weak for the forest now. It’s beautiful of you, however, he can’t very well enjoy his hunt if you fall to the local hoard. So, he dresses you up in furs and kisses you bloody. For the sake of the hunt. He’s making you a killer, a monster, and you can’t bring yourself to care when it feels so good <3

Zombie (?)!Idia that’s crazy. Irreversibly, monstrously insane. But he loves you- Just enough to keep you alive with his potions and shots. After you were infected, your senses only heightened. He keeps you tied down, much to his chagrin. It feels like a hospital, it reeks of him, his blood. He’s immune, a rarity in the hellhole you’re “living” through, but he wastes that gift on giving you a lifeline.. Wastes his time reteaching you to speak, wastes his pretty lips with suckling onto yours- You can’t reciprocate anymore, but you can feel. The passion. The desperation. And most of all, the hunger.. If you could only ask, he’d lay himself down and let you feast. He wants you to be happy. You’ve always been a good student, especially with a little motivation <3

@bju3c0re @kyokills

[gold-onthe-inside]

with love, from reid

who? spencer reid (s8) x blake!reader summary: after a case ruins spencer's carefully planned valentine's date, he does his best to make up for it. but all you needed was him. and all the gifts in the world are nothing compared to yours. word count: 3.3k based on: Valentine’s Day Request - Spencer and his partner are separated for Valentines Day (maybe he went to go visit his mom or he was on a special assignment like in Minimal Loss and a storm grounded flights) but he uses every method possible to give his partner the most amazing Valentines Day ever. a/n: i'm so sorry for sitting on this request forever, but inspiration struck today i guess. hope you like it anon.

Spencer’s not like other guys. It’s the mantra you have to keep using to keep your head on straight. But being cheated on by someone you had been about to marry changes your whole perspective on things. Makes it harder to trust, even the most angelic man you’ve ever met. You have to take a deep breath every time he gets a call from JJ or Penelope, have to remind yourself that there’s a valid reason for every missed date, every morning you wake up without him. Because it’s scary how much you like him, how often you think about him.

The scarce amount of time you both get makes the little moments more important, and he knows it. In his head, he’s been building it up, down to the cardigan he would wear on the 14th. He’s calculated the exact amount of time it takes to get from Quantico to your hospital, chosen a restaurant within walking distance — something right up your alley with exotic food and a quiet atmosphere. He knows how many footsteps it’ll take to get there, how many topics you can cover, all of it, down to miniscule details. The flower arrangements that would wait for you both. The menu he had memorised in his head, knowing exactly what you would order. The average time it would take for you both to finish eating while talking. The train back to his apartment, where your favourite movie would be waiting.

If only he could control this unsub the same way. But they were no closer to finding the unsub on the 13th as they were two days ago. He’d been putting off the call all day, staring at his phone until Alex had pointed it out, unravelling the first stitch of his sealed lips. The seam split and he told her everything — the date he’d planned, the flowers he’d bought in advance, the reservation that was waiting for you. He receives the pat on the knee he’d been expecting from Alex, the promise that you’d be understanding (who would know better than her, really?), and her stern voice telling him to call you.

You can hear the regret in his voice when he calls, the tired fatigue that makes you smile sympathetically. “Did you get home okay?” he asked, scuffing the back of his sneakers against the floor, standing right outside the precinct, stars glittering above him, much brighter in Tennessee than in DC. It’s a whole nother date on his bucket list — going star-gazing with you.

“Yeah, just now,” you replied, and he can see you in his mind’s eye, taking off your boots and neatly arranging them in your rack, keys in a clay dish that an 8 year old had made for you, the crick in your neck that he wants to massage for you. “How about you? Any closer to finding your strangler?”

“No,” he huffs, leaning against the railing. There’s a slight chill in the air, but he can’t feel it, not right now. He just wants to hear your voice. “But that’s not important — I just wanted to make sure you made it home safe.”

You huffed a small laugh, and he can hear you bustling around over the call, maybe changing into your pyjamas, or hunting for ingredients to make a quick dinner for one, and a frustrated ache builds behind his eyes. He wants to be there, with you, listening to old jazz music and making dinner and small talk. “I think I’m in less danger than the FBI agent hunting down a serial killer, honey.”

“You’re always in less danger than I am,” he grumbles, the beginnings of a smile playing at his lip. He closes his eyes, tilting his head back and picturing the dimly lit kitchen in your apartment, the scent of spices and the warmth of old vinyl records. “I miss you,” he confesses in a soft, almost broken tone.

He hears you pause, a palpable beat passing before you murmured, “I miss you too.”

“I wish I could be there,” he says. He wants to run a hand down your back, trace his knuckles over your cheek to feel the softness of your skin. “I had a whole night planned for us tonight.”

"I know, lovely," you murmured, leaning on the kitchen counter, phone pressed to your ear. "There'll be other nights."

He sighs. He hates having to cancel on you, especially now, when they’re already so rare. “Not like this one,” he mutters, and he knows you can probably tell by his tone that he’s pouting like a child.

“Why, because tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day?” you asked, talking while making a quick pasta.

He’s quiet for a second. Then — “Yes,” he admits in a near-whine. “It was going to be a special night.”

"Spence... Every day is Valentine's Day with you," you said, knowing exactly how cheesy you sound and running with it anyway.

Spencer’s just grateful you can’t see his face right now, because he knows he’s blushing a little, that he has an adorably smitten smile on his lips and he’s sure it would only embarrass him if you could see. “Sap,” he accuses lovingly.

"Said the man who collects ticket stubs of every movie we see," you retorted, grinning into the phone.

He sputters. “That’s — that’s — you’re not supposed to know about those,” he complained. “I keep those for myself, they’re a private collection for a reason.“

“Wow, what happened to what’s yours is mine?” you teased him, watching the pasta boil, and Christ, you felt like a lovestruck teenager right now, like those sickly sweet couples in Hallmark movies.

“That’s — there’s exceptions to that rule,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t you dare touch those. I’ve sorted them in chronological order, by the way — if one is out of place, I’ll know it was you messing around, looking over my things.”

You laughed into the phone, bright even with how tired you felt, because he brought it out of you, a glowing feeling in your chest that made the ache in your feet hurt a little less. It’s a sound that never fails to make his heart skip — the softest, most wonderful noise he’s ever heard. “I wish I was there,” he says again, his voice suddenly quiet and heavy with want.

"I know," you said quietly, watching the water grow cloudy as your pasta cooks. "But those women need you more than I do right now, Spence."

“Stop using logic on me,” he says, only half-joking, his expression serious even though you can’t see it. “I want to be selfish with you tonight.”

"Sweetheart, you don't have a selfish bone in your body," you replied affectionately.

“It’s not fair,” he complains, still playing the part of the pouting child in his mind, just whining and grumpy because he wants to be with you. “I was going to give you flowers, and take you out to dinner, and I was going to drive you home and kiss you so much—”

"We can still do that," you said, cutting him off before he could fill your head with ideas and then you could say goodbye to sleeping peacefully tonight.

“Not tomorrow,” he says. He’s almost definitely pouting right now, staring down at the pavement, his eyes dark under his lashes. “And it’s only Valentine’s once a year, I wanted it to be perfect.”

You fretted as you turned the gas off, putting off straining the pasta as you turned into the phone. “Why’s this so important to you, angel?” you asked softly.

It’s one of the things he loves about you — the gentleness with which you handle him, the way you ooze with care and curiosity instead of coddling concern. “This is our first Valentine’s,” he replies, slightly petulant. “And I wanted it to be good. Something you could look back on. I had it all planned out.”

Christ, you could cry with how much Spencer cared about you. You couldn’t remember anyone, boyfriend or not, who loved you this much. “You know it would’ve been perfect, regardless, right?” you asked gently. “You and me, that’s all I need. Even if it’s over a phone line.”

He’s quiet for a moment, just listening to you speak. “You deserve the best,” he says eventually. “You deserve flowers. And an elegant restaurant. And a movie. And a home cooked meal.” And me, he wants to add, but he doesn’t. “Not a phone call and the knowledge that your boyfriend is across the country.”

"Sweetheart, I get all of that from you even when it isn't Valentine's," you said, in that same gentle tone. "Besides, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you were here when you could be catching a killer."

“Why do you have to be reasonable?” Spencer groaned, rubbing a hand over his face again because you’re being entirely too logical for him to fight with right now. “That’s not fair.”

You chuckled, crossing your arms and leaning on the counter. "We'll have a make-up date, I promise," you said. "Just how you planned it."

That seems to pacify him a little bit, because he lets out a soft sigh. “Okay,” he agrees, slightly begrudgingly. “But I’m in charge of planning. You don’t get a say in the matter.”

You fake a tsk, as if planning mattered at all to you. "Fine. Whatever you decide."

That makes a soft, contented sound form in his throat — one bordering on possessive. “That’s what I thought,” he says, and you can all but envision the smirk on his lips.

"Go find your killer," you chided him, grinning stupidly, but there's no bite in it.

He lets out an amused huff. “Yes ma’am,” he teases, before his tone softens again. “I miss you. I’ll try to come home as soon as I can, okay?”

"Okay," you replied. "Stay safe, please."

“I will,” he promises, because he knows how much the thought of him getting hurt scares you. “Don’t worry about me.”

You snorted quietly, like it was possibly to not worry about him on cases. "Bye."

“Bye,” he responds quietly, and he wishes he could kiss you goodbye, trace the line of your lips with his fingers and feel the pulse in your neck against his fingers. “Sweet dreams.”

"You too," you whispered before hanging up. Spencer stands there for another moment after the call ends, his phone still in his hand and his heart heavy, and he wonders if it’s possible for someone to actually ache from missing someone this much.

And then Morgan’s calling him inside with his newly minted nickname since dating you — ‘lover boy’ — to adjust the geographic profile and he’s unwillingly dragged back into the vortex that is his job. And he has to shove any thoughts of you to the back of his mind for the time being, the lingering ache at the edge of his chest a constant, nagging thing that he has to continuously push past to focus on the case.

The whole team is working hard to try and solve this, but progress is slow. Somewhere between analysing blood spatter patterns and doing his own research to figure out their unsub’s deal, he does his best to plan your make-up date, paranoid that someone would see him looking for places to take you and make his day worse. Eventually, tired of having to look over his shoulder, he bites the bullet and calls Garcia for help, even if it would no doubt get back to Morgan and the rest of the team.

And then he has to deal with Garcia’s excited squealing, her incessant questions about you both, her comments about how cute he is and how she needs to meet you. He keeps his head down and grits his teeth, because he knows she means no harm, and it’s a small price to suffer through just to have this night be perfect.

The first thing to arrive was a bouquet of tulips with your morning paper waiting outside your door, a pretty arrangement of red and pink that matched the outfit you were going to wear to work — the whole department had agreed to come in red, white, and pink colours — and you can’t stop smiling as you go to put in a vase with water.

He gets the picture texted to him in the middle of a briefing with Hotch and the team, barely able to restrain his smile as he checked his phone under the table.

You: They’re beautiful, thank you.

He’s oblivious to Morgan giving him an odd look as he texted you back:

Spencer: Only the best for the most beautiful girl in the world.

Spencer tucks his phone back into his pocket when the meeting ends, pointedly avoiding eye contact with Morgan. He knows he’s going to get bombarded with questions he doesn’t feel like answering, and for once he’s glad they have a case to work on so he can use that as an excuse not to interact with him.

The second arrival was a package sent to your office, because of course he had your shift schedule memorised, and you signed for it, grasping the brown paper package that was obviously a book back to your desk. There’s no reason for you to hide it, not in the sanctity of your own office, but it’s as if you’re back in school, your crush sending you a note that you unfurl under your desk, finding a hardbound copy of Persuasion, arguably your favourite Austen novel.

You do your best not to blush, picking up your phone to text him, chewing on your lip before flipping to the right chapter and sending him a direct quote.

You: There could have been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison.

Spencer’s in the middle of examining a body when you sent him the text. But as soon as he feels his phone vibrate, he pulls it out without a second thought, uncaring of the fact that Morgan and Rossi are looking his way. He has to hold back a smile because no, he won’t give Morgan any ammunition.

Spencer: You have my whole heart.

“You two are sickening, I hope you know that,” Morgan told him, a smirk on his lips.

Spencer’s head snaps up in alarm at the sound of his voice, and he quickly drops his phone in his pocket, face flushing. He’s silent for a minute, trying to regain his composure and come up with something to defend himself. “No idea what you’re talking about,” he replied weakly.

"Uh-huh," Rossi replied, masking a smile. "Can we look at the body now, or does your girlfriend have more input?" He wouldn’t be surprised if you did, to be honest, but he’d rather keep you out of this part of his world. He just shook his head, stepping closer to the slab.

Your last gift came in just as Valentine’s Day was about to come to an end, Spencer silently tracking into your apartment, 5 minutes away from midnight, cringing as he opened the bedroom door as quietly as possible. You’re asleep, your breathing soft and deep, the soft, soothing sound filling the room. He kneels by your side of the bed for a moment, just looking at you: all loose-limbed and relaxed, your face soft and sweet against the pillow. He can’t help the little smile that tugs the corner of his mouth up, and he wonders how he got so lucky. Softly, he reaches out, fingertips gentle as he brushes a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

You flinched, startled awake, until you recognise Spencer's eyes blinking back at you. "Jesus Christ, you scared me," you breathed out. "You should have told me you were coming."

“I was trying to be quiet,” he murmured, keeping his voice low so only you would hear. His hand brushed the curve of your jaw, a soft, almost reverent motion. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You sink back into your pillows, shifting inside so he can sit on the edge. "I would have waited up for you if you'd called first," you murmured, voice thick with sleep.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, his hip right against your knee, his fingers still trailing along your face, then resting on your thigh over the covers. “I tried to get home earlier,” he said, and he sounded exhausted, the stress of the case weighing on him. “But the team was debating something. And then paperwork...”

"You don't have to explain," you said softly, shaking your head, making a mess of your hair.

He watches you, his gaze lingering on the mussed locks on your head, the sleepy bleariness to your eyes, the pinkness to your cheeks, and he feels a surge of longing so strong it borders on painful for a moment. He loves you like this — soft and sweet and rumpled with sleep, and he wants nothing more than to curl up next to you right here and now. “I hate being away from you for so long,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I missed you so much.”

"Should've caught your guy faster then," you said, shifting up to meet his lips with yours. "Happy Valentine's."

He returned your kiss, his fingers trailing up to the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. “Happy Valentine’s,” he murmured against your lips, before he was kissing you again, harder this time, and you could tell he was tired by the urgency with which he held onto you.

"I realised something when you were away, you know," you murmured against his lips.

He pulled back slightly so he could look at you, his fingers still trailing along the back of your neck. “Yeah?” he asked, tilting his head to the side and studying your face with those sharp, intelligent eyes of his.

You nodded, looking at him with your own fond gaze. "I love you," you said softly. Plain and uncomplicated.

He had heard those words plenty of times in his life, but he’d never tire of hearing them from your lips. He felt his heart stutter in his chest, and he moved his hand to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Say it again?” he whispered.

"I love you," you repeated, your smile glowing in the dark, streetlights dancing over your ceiling.

He felt something in his chest settle at the words, at the reassurance that you really were here, and you were his. He leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your nose, the. corner of your mouth, then the underside of your jaw. “I love you,” he murmured against your skin. “God, I love you so much.”

Your arms winded around him, his face burying itself in your neck, pressing soft kisses to your skin, his arms wrapped around your waist. His hands slipped up under your sleep shirt, his touch warm and soft against your back, and he practically sunk into you, needing the closeness, needing to be surrounded by you.

"I know the day didn't go to plan," you murmured, "but this is the best Valentine's Day I've ever had."

His arms wrapped around you a little tighter, like he couldn’t get enough of having you pressed against him, and he pulled his head back from your neck so he could look at you properly. “Me too,” he said, then reconsidered. “Well, the whole day was hell, but this… this is perfect.”

"Yeah?" you asked, pecking his lips.

He chased your mouth, kissing you again, lingering on your lips for longer. “Yeah,” he replied softly. “Being with you is all I need.”

[sturn777]

chapter 2 — damage control

↻ ◁ previous II next ▷ ↺ moodboard

A MIX OF TEXTS, MISSED CALLS, and twitter notifications had flooded your phone. you barely had time to register what was going on before a call from your boss came through.

you sat up so fast you damn near gave yourself whiplash. what the fuck now?

and then you saw it. blurry, paparazzi shots of her. looking all sad and brokenhearted, sitting outside some overpriced café with sunglasses on and an untouched oat milk latte. the caption was making it way worse.

“chris’ ex seen looking devastated just days after viral cheating scandal”

oh, for fuck’s sake.

“chris.”

he barely even looked up, shirtless and posted up on his couch, scrolling through his phone like nothing was happening.

“chris.”

“mhm.” he lazily scooped another bite of cinnamon toast crunch into his mouth, unbothered as hell. you resisted the urge to snatch the bowl out of his hands.

“have you seen this?” you gestured at your screen.

“yeah,” he said through a mouthful of cereal. “kinda crazy.”

“kinda crazy?” you repeated, voice high-pitched in disbelief. “she looks like she’s about to drop a whole heartbreak album and you’re just sitting here eating cereal?”

he shrugged, resting the bowl on his stomach. “what you want me to do? cry about it?”

you exhaled sharply, dragging a hand over your face. how was he so nonchalant about his own damn scandal? “okay, well, better start doin' something. because now, you look like the villain.”

he rolled his eyes. “and? people already hate me. why you stressing?”

you scrolled through the endless tweets dragging him, practically feeling your blood pressure rise. “because, dumbass, this makes you look desperate. like you’re waiting around for her.”

and that got his attention.

he paused mid bite, brow raising slightly. “huh.” he chewed for a second, thinking. “yeah, that’s not gonna work.”

you watched him sit up, stretching like this was just another tuesday, not a full blown pr crisis.

“alright,” he exhaled. “guess i gotta do something.”

you crossed your arms. “like what?”

he smirked. “like get a new girl.”

“no.”

“yes.”

“absolutely the fuck not.”

“why not? it makes sense.”

you threw your phone onto his couch, resisting the urge to strangle him. “because it’s stupid. and it’s literally the most obvious move in the book.”

“doesn’t mean it won’t work,” he countered, that signature cocky smirk still on his face. “c’mon, imagine the headlines.”

you already could, unfortunately.

“chris seen with mystery girl just days after scandal”

“chris rebounds with someone unexpected”

“who is the woman stealing chris’ attention?”

except—wait. he wasn’t looking at his phone anymore.

he was looking at you.

“nah.” you shook your head immediately. “nope. don’t even say it.”

“c’mon, ma,” he said, voice smooth, persuasive. “you’re perfect for this.”

“i am not.”

“you literally work in pr. this is your thing.”

“this is insane.”

“nah, it’s smart.” he leaned back, arms stretched over the couch. “you’re already around me all the time, it wouldn’t look forced. plus, you know how to make it believable.”

“you are out of your fucking mind.”

“you’d get hella publicity too,” he added. “like, genius pr agent takes on the impossible task of rebranding me? and then falls for me in the process? c’mon, that’s fire.”

“no.”

“yes.”

but then your phone buzzed with a new headline.

“a source close to chris says he’s ‘doing his own thing’”

you groaned. because if there was one thing worse than fake dating chris, it was letting his ex win the pr game.

he saw your hesitation immediately.

and he smirked.

“knew you’d come around, babe.”

💬 : hope u like this ! what should i do for part 3 ??

🏷 : ( @emely9274 ; @bluestriips ; @loveparqdise ; @st4rcs ; @starwebber9 ; @conspiracy-ash ; @sweetrelieef ; @chris-hallelujah ; @leoslaboratory ; @matttsangel ; @awnmaneez ; @heartss4clauu ; @mattsstarlet ; @madisturni ; @marrykisskilled ; @inspiredangel ; @mattsdemi ; @sturnioloangell ; @ivyandthebeans ; @amelia-sturniolo3 ; @dominicfikeenthusiast ; @sophand4n4 ; @ch6rm ; @et6rnalsun; @sturniolossss ; @jetaimevous ; @chrissweetheart ; @secretlocket ; @courta13 ; @mattsleftball ; @chrislova ; @etherealval ; @throatgoat4u ; @oopsiedaisydeer ; @dearsoulmate3 ; @leaningoutthewindow ; @izzylovesmatt ; @rinnsgalaxy ; @espressqe ; @pair-of-pantaloons ; @chericherrybaby ; @cockettechris ; @sirenedeslily )

[judebellenthusiast]

Casual- Jude Bellingham

Jude x female reader

w.c: 4.3k

summary: Two friends, whose connection was once effortless and genuine, now find it teetering on the edge, as Jude’s possessiveness and Yasmin’s reluctance to fully engage threaten to push them toward an emotional breaking point.

warnings: mature language, not proof read

-------------------------------------

Another ordinary night at Jude’s place. The TV hummed in the background, a classic British comedy filling the space with familiar chatter. Yasmin was curled up on his couch, wrapped in one of his hoodies, laughing at something on her phone. She looked so at home here, so natural—like she belonged. Like this was hers. And maybe, in some unspoken way, it was.

Jude watched her, savoring the sight. He loved that she let him see her like this—unguarded, comfortable, vulnerable. Not just once, but over and over, as if trust was second nature between them. It made him feel dizzy with something dangerously close to happiness. Because despite the strange, unspoken thing lingering between them, she was still here. Still showing up for him. Still untouched by whatever it was that had been gnawing at him.

And that had been eating at his sanity all along.

A noticeable ping goes off on Yasmin’s phone. Immediately alarmed, Jude shifts, listening to the soft tapping of her fingers as she responds to the message. His chest grows heavy with the realization that, once again, he had interrupted their quality time.

And that makes him hot.

Fighting against his better judgment, he decides to play loving Jude—the version of himself who puts his pride aside, who listens, who understands. It never used to be difficult. But lately, with her? Not so much.

The thought of her with someone else makes his blood run scorching hot.

It shouldn’t. He’s had his flings, his hookups, his forgettable nights. She’s free to do the same.

Still-

“You like him?” His voice is rougher than it should be, his grip tightening around the bowl of popcorn.

She looks up, surprised. “What”

“That guy.” He doesn’t say his name. Won’t. “You like him?”

She hesitates, then shrugs. “He’s nice.”

Nice. Jude almost laughs. He wants to rip nice apart with his teeth. Nice doesn’t know her like he does. Nice doesn’t get to see her in moments like this—wrapped up in him, breathing in his space, wearing his hoodie like it belongs to her.

Tonight, he’s greedy. Completely relentless.

“Since when did you settle for nice?”

For a moment, Yasmin just blinks at him, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she sets her phone down on the armrest, like she’s choosing her words carefully. Choosing how to handle him. It makes him feel like a landmine ; one wrong step and he’ll go off, shattering whatever fragile thing still exists between them.

“don’t start.”

That should be his cue to back off, to shake this off like it’s nothing. He wishes it was nothing. But it isn’t. It’s her. And it’s him. And it’s every moment like this where she’s here but not his.

He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “I’m just saying, nice? That’s all it takes?”

Her jaw tightens. “Well Jude, not everything has to be complicated.”

But we are, he wants to say. We always have been. Instead, he scoffs, running a hand through his hair, feeling himself unravel. “Right. So, what, he sends a few texts, calls you pretty, and that makes you fold?.”

Yasmin tenses, her fingers curling into the sleeves of his hoodie. It’s not anger, not yet—but he knows her well enough to recognize the shift. The moment she starts pulling away.

“That’s not fair,” she murmurs. “You don’t get to do this.”

She’s right, he doesn’t. But she’s here, looking at him with something dangerously close to pity, and it makes his stomach churn. Because deep down, he knows what she means.

Not when he’s the one who taught her how to move on.

Not when he’s the reason she had to.

She looks at him for a beat too long, eyes scanning his face like she’s searching for something morse code , a smoke signal, a reason to stay in this conversation. But whatever she’s looking for, she doesn’t find it. She exhales, slow and measured, then reaches for her phone again.

That should be the end of it. He should let her go back to texting Nice, pretend this doesn’t bother him, be the easygoing, unaffected Jude she’s used to. But he can’t.

Instead, he says, “Does he know you steal all the blankets in your sleep?” His voice is quieter now, almost careful. “That you leave the tap running when you brush your teeth, no matter how many times I tell you it’s wasteful?”

Yasmin freezes, Jude’s hoodie failing to shield her from the icy sensation creeping through her. What once felt like comfort now felt paper-thin.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his head tilted to the side, a gesture that usually made her needy but now had the opposite effect.

“Does he know you don’t really like horror movies, but you watch them anyway because you love the way people get passionate about them?” His throat is tight now, but he pushes forward. “Does he know that when you’re sad, you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from crying?”

A pause. A long, suffocating silence.

Then she whispers, “What’s your point here Jude ”

And fuck, it hurts. The way she says his name, soft and broken and pleading, like she’s asking him not to do this. Like she’s trying to remind him of all the reasons they stopped being them in the first place. All those intimate nights together, How he ruined her for any other man like a disease taking over its carrier.

How she’d wake up bare and vulnerable to him holding her like she would slip away in the middle of his slumber— worst part is how they’d go back to their usual selves like nothing ever happened

He forces out a laugh, but it cracks at the edges. “Nice doesn’t know you Yaz.” His voice drops, raw and unsteady. “Not like I do.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, her tongue pressing against the inside of her cheek—something Jude knew she did when she was annoyed. But once again, he selfishly disregarded her discomfort. He didn’t care. Not when he was ready to burn every bridge between them just to make his point.

Jude had never been the rational one between the two parties, that was always Yasmin. The thinker, the mediator, the one who kept their arguments from spiraling into something irreparable. She was emotionally intelligent in a way he wasn’t, in a way he admired. In a way he adored.

Amongst so many other things, As often as he hated to admit it, she was usually right. She had to be—moderating heated debates between him and the younger Bellingham required nothing less.

“Oh, grow up. What do you know about relationships when your entire track record consists of sleeping with women on the first date and kicking them out before sunrise?” Her words cut sharp, ruthless—but he deserved it for thinking he had the right to judge her.

“I’m actually trying to build something here. Something real—something valuable.” She presses.

Jude makes no effort to chime in, letting her words settle between them like embers still burning at the edges. She had a point—a brutal one at that; but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he stays silent, almost relieved. Because for once, she isn’t biting her tongue to spare his feelings. Even if it comes at his expense, at least she’s finally stopped pretending everything between them is fine.

At least now, they’re being honest.

“Hmm, now you have nothing to say?” She tilts her head, eyes sharp, voice laced with something dangerously close to amusement. “What happened? You had no problem running your mouth about ‘ nice’ earlier. What, Jude? Cat got your tongue?”

Nothing. He stays perfectly still, arms sprawled out against the couch, exuding the kind of ease that only ever masked something deeper. His eyes remain locked on Yasmin, drinking her in like she’s an expensive painting in the Louvre—something priceless, something untouchable.

And then, just to piss her off, he flashes the biggest, most infuriating shit-eating grin.

“You find this funny? What’s so fucking funny, Jude?” Yasmin’s voice is sharp, laced with frustration, her arms crossing over her chest as she glares at him. “Go on, speak up”

Jude just chuckles, shaking his head, that damn grin still plastered on his face. “I’m just glad you finally had the balls to say what you actually feel instead of watering it down, Yaz. Good on you love”

Running a hand through her hair, she takes a deep breath, her patience hanging by a thread. Without thinking, she grabs the nearest object—a pillow—and hurls it straight at his perfectly trimmed set of hair.

It smacks against him with a dull thud, bouncing off uselessly. The grin finally slips from his face, just for a second.

Jude blinks, then tilts his head, lips twitching. “Didn’t peg you as a violent person, Although, I gotta say… that cushion didn’t do much damage.” He leans back lazily, smirking. “Cute effort, though.”

Yasmin exhales sharply, shaking her head as if she’s trying to physically rid herself of him—of this entire moment. This was useless. He was useless.

“ Fuck right off, I’m done,” she mutters, voice tight. She turns on her heel, grabbing her phone in the process– not thinking of her valuables that’s stored in his closet and bathroom drawers for all the times she’d stay over. She practically lived here.

She moves toward the door with quick, purposeful strides. She won’t stay here, won’t let him rile her up just to leave her in the same emotional purgatory he always does. it was usually unintentional but it still hurt.

But then—his hand wraps around her wrist. Not hard, not forceful, but firm enough to stop her in her tracks.

“Yasmin,” he says, and for the first time tonight, his voice isn’t teasing. It isn’t cocky or smug. It’s quiet. Unsteady. Raw.

She doesn’t turn around.

He swallows hard. “If you walk out that door, you’re not just leaving for the night. We both know that.”

Silence. Thick, suffocating.

“Maybe that’s the point,” she whispers.

His grip tightens, just slightly, like he’s trying to anchor her here, to him. “Then tell me,” he says, his voice barely above a breath, Grabbing onto her shoulders turning her body to face his “Tell me you don’t feel it anymore. Tell me you don’t care. That this-” he lets out a shaky exhale, “—that I don’t mean anything to you.”

She squeezes her eyes shut. Her pulse thrums against his fingertips. “Fuck you”

“Say it,” he presses, voice breaking at the edges. “And maybe I’ll let you go.”

She wants to. She needs to. It would be easier if she did But the words won’t come, because they would be a lie. Because no matter how much she tries to convince herself otherwise—he still means everything.

And he knows. Of course, he knows.

So he takes a step closer, close enough that she can feel his breath against her skin, close enough that if she turned around, there would be no space left between them. “Figures, You can’t,” he murmurs. “Because you still love me.”

Her breath catches.

And just like that, he’s ruined everything

Yasmin wrenches her wrist out of his grasp like his touch burns her. And maybe it does—because everything about him is fire and recklessness and ruin, and she can’t do this. Not again.

“Don’t,” she snaps, stepping back as if distance could save her. “Don’t say that. You don’t get to say that.”

Jude shakes his head, jaw tight, eyes locked onto her like she’s the only thing in the world that matters. “Why not? Because it’s true?”

She scoffs, arms crossing over her chest like a shield. “Because it’s cruel, Jude. You don’t get to throw shit like that in my face when you’re the reason I had to stop loving you in the first place.”

That hits. She sees it in the way his expression falters, just for a second, before he recovers—before he takes a step toward her, crowding her space, refusing to let her hide behind anger.

“Yasmin,” he murmurs, voice low, pleading. “Look at me.”

She keeps her gaze firmly on the floor. She won’t let him do this. Won’t let him drag her back into the storm of him just because he suddenly decided he wanted her again.

But Jude isn’t having it.

“Look. at .me.” His voice is sharper now, desperate, like her refusal to meet his eyes is physically hurting him.

Her chest rises and falls in sharp, uneven breaths. “Why? So you can watch me fall apart for you again?”

“Yes.” The answer comes instantly, wrecked and honest. “Because I need to see it. Because I know you’re hurting, Yas. I know you still feel this.” He reaches for her again, not to hold her down, not to trap her—just to touch her, to make her stay. “I know I fucked up. I know I ruined it. But don’t stand here and lie to my face. Not you.”

She shakes her head furiously, tears stinging at the edges of her vision. “You don’t get to need me now. You don’t get to want me now.”

Jude exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face. And then—his voice drops to a whisper, one that slips through the cracks in her armor before she can stop it.

“I never stopped wanting you.”

Her resolve wavers. And he sees it. Of course, he does.

So he steps even closer, tilting his head, trying to catch her eyes. Begging for them. “Please, Yaz,” he breathes. “Just look at me.”

she knows the second she looks at him, really looks at him, she’ll crumble. And she’s spent too long trying to piece herself back together to let him wreck her all over again.

But Jude? Jude is relentless.

His fingers twitch at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to reach for her again, to force her to face him if he has to. His breathing is uneven, his chest rising and falling too fast, like he’s the one spiraling. And maybe he is. Maybe, for once, she’s not the only one drowning in whatever the hell this is.

“Yasmin,” he whispers, voice cracking.

Her throat tightens. She clenches her jaw, wills herself to stay strong. But something about the way he says her name, like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to this moment, has her resolve slipping.

So she looks.

And it’s a mistake.

Because his eyes—God, his eyes—are raw, desperate, completely, devastatingly bare. There’s no cocky smirk, no smug deflection, no armor. Just him. Just Jude. Just the boy she loved so recklessly, so stupidly, staring at her like she’s the only thing he’s ever truly been afraid of losing.

And just like that, she hates him.

Hates him for making her look. Hates him for looking at her like that. Hates him for being so fucking easy to love when he’s spent so long proving he didn’t deserve it.

So she shoves him. Hard.

His body jerks back slightly, but he barely reacts, barely even blinks, just lets her push him like she needs to.

“You don’t get to do this,” she chokes out, her voice shaking with barely contained rage. “You don’t get to sit here and act like I’m the one who left. Like I’m the one who let us fall apart.”

Jude swallows thickly, his jaw clenching. “I know.”

“Do you?” she snaps, another shove landing against his chest. “Do you really? Because if you did, you wouldn’t be standing here, making me relive all the ways you broke me.”

Jude exhales sharply, tilting his head up, eyes flickering to the ceiling like he’s trying to keep himself together. And then, after a long, agonizing beat.

“I never wanted to break you.” His voice is barely above a whisper.

Yasmin lets out a bitter laugh, but it sounds more like a sob. “Well, congratu-fucking-lations, Jude. You did.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head. “I know.”

And then, softer, like he’s confessing the worst sin imaginable—

“And I hate myself for it.”

Yasmin lets out a hollow laugh, “You hate yourself for it?” she echoes, shaking her head. “That’s rich, Jude. You think that changes anything? You think that makes it better?”

She pushes him again, but this time it’s weaker, her hands curling into fists against his chest grabbing onto his shirt

Jude doesn’t move. Doesn’t stop her. Just stands there and takes it, lets her anger sink into his skin like he needs to feel it.

“You have no idea what it was like,” she whispers, voice shaking. “Sitting there, pretending I was fine while you paraded around with other women. Like we never happened. Like I never happened.”

His breath hitches, but she doesn’t stop. Can’t.

“You’d walk into a room with some girl on your arm, smiling like she was the only thing in the world that mattered, and I had to sit there and pretend it didn’t feel like my entire fucking chest was caving in.” Her voice is raw now, her eyes burning with unshed tears. “Do you know what that’s like, Jude? Do you have any idea what it’s like to love someone so much that watching them with someone else feels like dying over and over again?”

Jude’s jaw tightens, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “Hey—”

“SHUT UP” She cuts him off, shaking her head. “You don’t get to talk. Not when I spent months swallowing my feelings just to make it easier for you. Not when I had to sit there, night after night, pretending it didn’t hurt to watch you move on like I was nothing.”

“I wasn’t moving on,” he says, and for the first time, there’s something desperate in his voice. “I was trying—trying to forget, trying to stop feeling like I’d ripped out my own fucking heart when I let you go.”

Yasmin lets out a sharp, broken exhale, shaking her head like she’s trying to keep herself from believing him. “Bullshit” Yasmin scoffs, her voice sharp, cutting. “You have everything, Jude. Status, women—hell, you live for that shit. "Bet you enjoyed knowing I was waiting like a lovesick puppy, hoping you'd finally see me the way I’ve always seen you."

Jude finally moves, stepping closer, forcing her to look at him, really look at him. "Stop that. I won’t let you talk about yourself like you’re just a pawn in some game," he interrupts, hating the way she tears herself down with words that couldn’t be further from the truth. His voice is thick, unsteady as he murmurs, "I don’t expect you to believe anything.. but it’s the truth."

She clenches her jaw, her entire body trembling with the weight of everything she’s held in for too long. “You had options, Jude. You had every chance to fix things. And instead, you let me sit there, watching you touch other women, smile at other women, while I had to act like I didn’t care.”

His hands twitch like he wants to reach for her, but he holds back. “I was a fucking coward.” His voice cracks. “I thought if I kept running, if I buried it deep enough, maybe it would go away. Maybe you would go away.”

Jude’s breath stutters, his entire body going rigid as her chest presses against his. She’s so close he can feel the heat radiating off her, can see the fire in her eyes, burning with rage, with pain, with something he knows is for him.

She tilts her head, daring him, pushing him. “Well, you haven’t always been the brightest” she taunts, voice dripping with venom. “So did it work? All that running around, all those one night stands , all that trying to bury your feelings like a fucking pussy did. It. Work?”

Jude exhales shakily, his eyes burning into hers. “No,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper. "No matter who I was with or how many nights I tried to move on, none of it ever compared to you," he says firmly, willing her to believe him. It’s raw, unfiltered—straight from the depths of his heart. Grasping her hand, he presses it against his chest, his heartbeat hammering beneath her palm. "This, right here, is real, Yasmin."

The words hit her like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath right out of her.

And Jude knows. He sees it in the way her lips part, in the way she grips her arms like she’s trying to physically hold herself together, and for a second, just a second, he thinks he sees her waver. Like the weight of this, of them, is finally catching up to her. But then she blinks, and the fire is back.

“Aw boo hoo ,” she bites out. Pulling her hand away from his chest “I want you to suffer. The same way I did.”

Jude swallows hard, his chest rising and falling too fast, too uneven, too agitated with her stubbornness.

“You think I haven’t?” His voice is quieter now, but there’s something raw in it, something that makes her breath hitch. “You think I don’t fucking hate myself every second of every day for what I did to you?” “Because I had something real, something valuable—and I ruined it. I ruined us. And the worst part?” He lets out a bitter exhale. “I never fucking stopped loving you. Not for a second. Not even when I tried.”

Her breath catches.

And just like that, she’s done for.

Yasmin squeezes her eyes shut, willing herself to stay firm, to not let those words seep into the cracks he already left behind. But it’s useless. Because this is Jude—her Jude—and no matter how much she wants to hate him, she knows deep down she never truly could.

She shakes her head, a silent plea for him to stop, to not do this to her. But of course doesn’t stop.

Instead, he steps even closer, his fingers ghosting over her wrist, a hesitant, desperate touch. “Say something,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

Her throat tightens. She can’t. Because if she speaks, if she admits what’s been sitting heavy in her chest since the moment she walked through his door, there’s no coming back from it.

So she does what she always does when it comes to him. She tries to run.

But Jude is faster.

He grabs her arm frustrated with her constant need to run. “Stop walking away from me. Not this time, not ever.”

She exhales shakily, refusing to turn around. “let me go.”

“No.” His voice is steadier now, more certain. like he’s trying to coax her out of hiding. “Yasmin.” He tugs her gently, just enough to make her stumble a step back toward him

When she turns, it’s slow, hesitant, her gaze lifting to meet his like she already knows it’ll be her undoing.

And the second she does, she breaks.

Because Jude is wrecked.

His brows are furrowed, his lips parted, his eyes desperate, pleading. Like she’s the only thing that’s ever truly mattered. Like he’s terrified she’ll slip through his fingers if he so much as breathes the wrong way.

“I love you,” he says, and this time, there’s no hesitation, no running, no fear. Just the truth.

Her chest tightens. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth.” He steps forward, eliminating the last bit of space between them. “And you know it is, Yaz. You’re it for me”

A single tear slips down her cheek, and when Jude sees it, something in him shatters.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes ,hesitating to reach up but he does so anyway— wiping her tears. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Yasmin lets out a trembling breath, her lips parting like she wants to say something—but then she just falls.

Not physically. Just enough for Jude to know that, this time, she’s his to catch.

He doesn’t hesitate. The second he feels her falter, he reaches for her; one hand curling around her waist, the other cradling the side of her face like she’s something fragile, something irreplaceable.

Yasmin doesn’t push him away. Doesn’t flinch. She just stands there, caught between her anger and the way his touch feels like something she’s been aching for.

It feels like an eternity passes before he finally speaks.

“Thought I lost you,” he says quietly.

“You did ” she responds, her voice sharp. “Nothing between us has been normal recently .”

Jude shakes his head instantly. “No,” he murmurs. “No, I didn’t. Because you’re still here.”

That stops her cold.

Because he’s right- hating the fact that he’s choosing to be rational- part of it likes that it’s with her.

She could’ve left. Could’ve walked out the second he touched her , the second he confessed. But she didn’t.

She’s still here.

Jude sees it, feels it, and he takes his shot. Grabbing onto her face he brushing her curls away gently his long fingers rest against her jaw

"I will spend every second of my life proving to you if you let me. I don’t care how long it takes, I don’t care what I have to do—just don’t tell me to stop loving you, Because I wont.”

Her lips part, her chest rising and falling too fast, too uneven.

And just when he thinks she might actually say it back

She steps away.

His hands drop, his heart plummeting, but he doesn’t fight her. He lets her go, even though it physically fucking kills him to do it.

She’s crying now, wiping at her cheeks like she’s angry at the tears, at him, at herself.

“I want to, but I can’t.”

His face twists, like he’s in actual pain. “Why not?”

Yasmin swallows hard, looking at him like she’s memorizing his face, like she already knows this might be the last time.

“Because loving you is just.. painful”

Jude’s breath shudders, and just like that—

She’s gone.

[sematarygirls]

hi cutieeee i know you’re doing a series rn but im hoping you might write abt anxious!reader with rafe where she’s just overwhelmed with errands

 ♯┆Rafe Comforts Overwhelmed Anxious!Reader.ㅤ  ۪ ୧

ᰋ. ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎i love this request, and i love anxious reader and bf rafe. he's so soft, and she's so me ‎‎ ‎ ‎ : ‎‎ ‎ ‎WARNINGS . . . anxiety vomiting.   ̼ ₊

You had a tendency to procrastinate until the very last minute, your anxiety eating away at you at the mere thought of completing some tasks, so you ended up pushing them away and out of your mind until inevitably, it came back to bite you in the ass.

Today was one of those days.

Throughout the week, you had accumulated and pushed off about a dozen little errands— the mere concept of going to the grocery store by yourself making you queasy, and the thought of having to drive yourself there making your heart race and your hands shaky.

You could have asked your beloved boyfriend to come with you, but you felt pathetic that you couldn't do so much as shop for groceries without feeling like embarrassment and panic was going to swallow you whole.

Unfortunately, the day before you'd planned to run your errands, you'd spent the night at Rafe's house, meaning when you woke up in the morning with that queasy, anxious feeling in your stomach that had you running to the toilet, Rafe was there to witness it.

Rafe's brow furrowed as he quickly shot out of bed at the sound of your dry heaves, rushing to your side to hold your hair and rub your back soothingly. “Shh, baby, it's okay,” he said gently, not understanding that it was your anxiety and that you weren't just sick.

You felt tears spring to your eyes, overwhelmed at the tasks of the day mixed with the feeling of your stomach retching every drop of its contents into the toilet bowl. You hated throwing up—not that anyone liked it. You did it so much that you began to panic the moment you felt that saliva pool in your mouth.

“Talk to me, what's wrong?” He asked, talking about what was feeling bad, obviously your stomach, but he didn't know if you were otherwise well. You misinterpreted the question, however, and began to ramble about your worries.

“I have all this stuff to do today, and I'm so anxious about going out and doing it by myself,” you explained, gripping the toilet bowl as your stomach stirred. You were thankful that the Cameron's kept their house clean and pristine.

Realization dawned on Rafe's face as he realized you weren't coming down with the flu; you were having anxiety nausea. He sighed, running a hand through his sleep-messy hair. “Baby, why didn't you say something sooner? You don't have to do all that shit by yourself.” He paused, then added more gently, “You know I can help you with that stuff, right?”

You avoided his gaze, shrugging weakly. “I just feel stupid asking for help with this stuff. I should be able to go to the grocery store by myself without freaking out.”

“Hey,” he said firmly, gripping your chin and forcing you to look at him. “You're not stupid, alright? There's nothing wrong with asking for help. I am more than happy to help you, but you've gotta let me in, okay?”

You sniffled and nodded.

“Good girl," he praised, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Now, let's get you cleaned up and run those errands,” he said, helping you to your feet before turning to run a bath for you.

You were grateful to have someone as understanding and willing to help you as Rafe was, and even though that queasy feeling in your stomach didn't go away, you felt better knowing Rafe would be there by your side. You weren't alone.

[puppysuke]

daisuke as a dad hc!

this is very self indulgent of me i fear. i want to have kids so bad its not funny. um! anyway, my day was very shit so. i needed something to feel better and somehow daisuke as a dad is what my brain decided would be comfort. continue reading below the cut ! art by dressup4life on pinterest i think, but i am unsure! these are all sfw and NOT on tulpar. if it happens after those events or a totally different au is up to you :) all are sfw.

🌺 --- total girl dad. i said it! you cannot convince me this man is not a girl dad. like, he's good with boys too, but tooootally a girl dad. 🌺 --- dress up ! stickers ! make up ! will let his kids do whatever they want to him in that aspect. ~ "dad, dad!" daisuke turns around from what he was doing-fixing the breaks of your car-, with grease smeared on his face. he smiled and stood up, rubbing his hands on his pants to get rid of the grease. he glances at swansea who had come over to give him a hand before turning to his kid and crouching down once more to be at eye level with his kid. "what's up, kiddo? wanted to help your awesome dad and uncle swansea fix the car?" he asks, reaching forward and pinching their cheek. his kid shakes his head and pouts. "no, dad, i wanna play dress up! lets play dress up!" daisuke smiles a little before hearing swansea snicker. he looked back at swansea and shoots a short glare.

needless to say, after that interaction, he was working on the car in a halloween princess dress with horribly done makeup, getting teased and made fun of playfully the whole time by swansea. (oof that healed a little part of me...) 🌺 --- daisuke never wants to push his kids into something they don't want. assuming you want to imaging this after the events of mouthwashing, he knows what its like to be pushed into something he doesn't want. be it a job they don't want when they're older, sports, or even a meal they don't like.

🌺 --- he is so worried about not doing a good job. he really wants to be a good dad, but sometimes he gets scared he's not doing a good job. he wants nothing more than to be a good parent, but sometimes he just comes to you with stress on being a bad dad. 🌺 --- he is the good cop. actually, he's in the criminals! you tell the kids no ice cream before dinner? you find daisuke eating ice cream with the kids. you tell the kids to eat their veggies? daisuke takes a good half of the veggies for himself instead. you tell daisuke to be more firm with the kids? he tries! but simply cannot resist those big eyes looking at him like the devil on his shoulder. 🌺 --- when you get insecure over strech marks or weight gain, you don't even have to tell daisuke. he can figure it out on his own in seconds of being by you. he is quick to reassure you and make sure you know he still finds you to be attractive. 🌺 --- for my trans masc readers, he constantly reassures you as a man! to him, your gender doesn't matter, even if you gave birth to his kids, he sees you as a man. you're his husband (or boyfriend) no matter what your body does and he makes sure to teach the kids about your gender when it comes time to! 🌺 --- as soon as he has one kid, he wants another. he is practically begging to have another kid after you're recovered and you're both ready physically and mentally. if you tell him no, he won't pressure you into it, but he will be a little disappointing. he will try not to show disappointment though! he already has one little angel, he is content.

🌺 --- when you first have a baby, he is gentle as ever with you and a great help! he's very active in taking care of both the baby and you! the baby needs to be changed into a clean diaper? he's on it! you need to take a bath? he's already running the water and ready to take the baby off your hands!

🌺 --- he is PROTECTIVE. like he doesn't even let his parents hold the baby at first. he wants only you and him to hold the baby, take care of the baby and everything like that.

🌺 --- he learns to cook. look, hear me out on this. he knows you're stressed about feeding the kids good meals, not just the instant ramen and take out you two had been living on, so he learns to cook throughout your pregnancies and before the baby can eat solid food!

🌺 --- he slows down and becomes a real family man. instead of wanting to go get a drink with friends, he'd rather be playing something with the kids. instead of gaming all night with people, he spends time with you after the kids are asleep. instead of reading comics, he talks to swansea for advice about things.

🌺 --- he ADORES you to no end after you have kids. like, he thought you were the most stunning person on earth but damn. you had a certain glow about you, and he definitely appreciated the extra weight you put on! ------- if you likes this and have anything you'd like me to write from this fandom, or any other fandoms listen in my intro post, my requests are open! just ask me in my inbox and i'll write / make hc for you <3 thank you for reading!

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

The Witcher savored the silence, save the crackling of the fire and the falling rain outside as he prepared their supper steadily, stirring the cooking pot he had set up over the fire, adding the ingredients of the stew. Working like this here in a cavern was nothing so new to him... but it felt surreal to be doing so on an island holding an eldritch cosmic entity, a cult and a lost city below. There was never a dull moment in the life of a Witcher, at least, however long one tread the Path. Destiny always found ways to pull the rug out from under him. Still, for the moment he felt relatively safe, their preparations made, as well as not having exposed himself to the corrupting power of many eldritch artifacts. When Sabrina squeezed his hand back and spoke up again, he stopped what he was doing and turned his viper eyes to her dark pair, surprised by what he heard. Something almost approaching regret. He couldn't say he was expecting that out of her. He was good at reading people though, with his experience and mutated senses, able to tell far more often than not when someone was lying... and knew her better than most. She didn't seem to be lying... especially in the state she was in, at present, vulnerable from the close brush with the Leviathan. He should have felt anger towards her... might again yet, but in that moment, their shared, complicated past felt thousands of miles away. At last, finding his words, his deep, grim voice returned to her just as honestly.

"Won't lie and pretend I haven't wanted to kill you. Deidre's blood is no less on your hands than it is on mine, with that Black Sun nonsense Eltibald and Stregobor cooked up... the Council you served enforcing it. Will pay them both a visit in Kovir, one day, loose ends I will tie up. It was all an excuse to grasp for the power of a Princess, destroy her life and drive her into insanity in pursuit of her magical mutations. Mages have always coveted mutations like the ones Alzur created, envious, why they destroyed our schools. And yet destiny bound you and me together all the same, no less than it did me to Deidre. A destiny I betrayed. When I heard Henselt put you to the fire and stake after your firestorm, I did not feel the relief and satisfaction I should have, only coldness. Yet all that is the past. Can't be undone, only learned from. I learn my lessons the same way as everyone else. The hard way. We have far bigger fish to fry anyways... of late. Saving the world, doing what a Witcher does best, is leagues more important to me than any hatred I feel for you. We're too old to waste vital time on the past, just now."

Eskel returned his attention gradually to his cooking in the wake of his words, before the crimson haired Sorceress pitched in to help with her magic, and as it had been with warding up the cavern, between them they cooked the meal in little time at all. Once it was prepared, he began to dig in, taking out his bottle of Mahakaman Spirit and White Gull as well, sipping it between bites, the welcome warmth burning in his throat and chest. For now they would eat and she would recuperate, and when they were ready they would wage war on the occupants of the island. Search out the answers they required. Likely he would have to kill most or all of them... the more he thought about it, the less likely it was there was anyone who lived on the island that hadn't been corrupted by the power of the Great Old Ones... the flesh of the Leviathan they had devoured. It would make things simpler if true, if not easier. Still, he was going to make damn sure that was the case, first. It was not a cat, bear or viper medallion hanging from his neck, last time he checked. He would hold on to his sanity and professionalism... all the more important now, considering the nature of what they were up against. When she spoke again, his eyes returned her way, jaw tightening a bit, and nodding his agreement. Speaking again between bites of his meal and sips of the hard drink. Thinking ahead, to their course of action when she was ready to move out.

"And make sure that damn cosmic octopus thing remains sleeping and imprisoned down there. Kill the Leviathan, if possible, or it will just keep trying to wake its master and father. We know it can be injured now, at least, back there with your portal. If we pull this off, would be best to magically reinforce whatever is holding Cthulhu and the Deep Ones in R'yleh. Alert the Arl of Skellige to make this island and the surrounding waters off limits to future visitors. As many precautions as possible. Even if we slay the cult here, and miraculously slay a Star-Spawn... you can bet there are others in the world, biding their time. We'll need to warn people, spread the word on these cults."

@fallesto

Sabrina took his words to heart, her eyes reflecting the flames in the fire as she nodded solemnly. They shared a quiet moment, the crackle of the fire and the patter of rain outside the only sounds in the vast cavern. She felt a warmth from his hand that seemed to chase away some of the chill that had settled into her bones. His grip was firm and comforting, a reminder of their shared history, of battles won and lost. In the quiet, she resolved to be more cautious, to listen to the wisdom that Eskel had gained over his long years fighting the darkness. She knew that she had been reckless, driven by her curiosity and desire to help, but she also knew that she could not change who she was entirely. Her nature was to seek knowledge, to push the boundaries of the known world, but she would do so with more thought for the consequences. Her hand tightened around his, a silent promise to be more mindful of the risks she took.

“I should have hired you in the past, to do more work for me, instead of everything that happened between us, I know deep down you hate me, and you would wish to kill me if not for fate, I understand it, but at the same time, I am who I am, and after all of this, maybe too much knowledge, is a bad thing, given how the northern lands have burned, witches are done in courts, and magic is not what people want anymore.”

She sighed as they sat there, the warmth from the fire began to dry their clothes, and the gentle scent of roasting meat filled the air. She would move her finger to bring forth the supplies, some rations to eat. The meal was simple, but it was hot and filling, a balm to their weary spirits. They ate in silence, their thoughts turning to the tasks that lay ahead. The cultists, the monsters, the very fabric of reality that seemed to be unraveling before their eyes. It was a heavy burden, but one they both knew they had to bear. As she nodded and would agree with him, Sabrina felt the weight of his words, and she knew that he was right. She had been too eager, too willing to dive into the abyss without considering the consequences. Her eyes never left the flickering flames, as if seeking answers in their dance. She had to be stronger, for herself, and for those who might still need her, which now was done to one person, him in a twisted way of fate being cruel. The warmth of his hand in hers was a reminder of the bond they shared, a bond forged in blood and magic.

"We'll face this together.” She said. "We're a good team, you and I. We need to keep it that way, we destroy the book, and all the cultsits."

[izzyy-stuff]

okay but hear me out,

reader can’t sleep because they’re horny and they decide to wake huening kai up, and he eats reader out🤭

warnings: oral (f!receiving),, wc: 460

You rolled over on your bed, for the thousandth time that night. You weren't sure why, but what you were sure off was that your boyfriend’s hand wandering under your shirt was driving you crazy. He was asleep, his touches meaning nothing, and yet, they meant everything. 

You roll over again, facing him. You watch his face for a few seconds, your hand gently cupping his cheek. He mumbles something, but it’s nothing you could comprehend. Just some sleepy blabs. 

“Kai,” you whisper, trying to see if you could wake him up. A part of you feels bad. You know he is tired after the long day he had, but you can’t help it. You need him, anything that could help you fall asleep. “Baby,” your thumb brushes over his cheek slightly, and he hums back, slowly waking up. 

It takes a while for him to open his eyes, even longer to make them focus. He blinks a few times, his hand coming up to cup your cheek as well. “What’s going on, baby?” He asks softly, his raspy voice sending shivers down your spine. “Can’t sleep,” you mumble back, hesitantly wrapping one of your legs around him. “Need to cum first,” you admit, and without a second thought, he pulls you closer to himself, pressing his lips on yours while his hand wanders up the back of your thigh until he reaches your ass. 

“I know you’re tired,” you pull back but he only shakes his head, prompting himself up and hovering over you. “Never too tired not to please my lady,” he says confidently, and before you know it, your pajama shorts are hanging at your ankles, his head buried in between your legs. 

His tongue slides between your fold, his hands tightly gripping your thighs as he holds your legs open, listening to the soft moans leaving your lips as he moves to suck on your clit. It didn’t matter how hard his day was before, or if he came home completely drained, he would sacrifice his sleep anytime if it meant having you like this under him. 

His movements quicker, and he sucks with more need as he feels your legs shake under his touch, knowing you are close to your climax. You throw your head back, your fingers finding his hair and pulling on them slightly as you get close, but he doesn’t budge a bit, continuing his work. 

It’s shortly after that he feels your release on his tongue that he finally pulls away, his thumb coming to rub a few more gentle circles on your clit to let you ride out your orgasm. You whine under his touch, squirming. He chuckles, his lips finding yours in a tender kiss . 

After that, you sleep a lot better than before.

⋆✶ izzy's tags @beomiracles @seoulzie @adel222 @inkigayocamman @flowzel @love-be0m @virgo-and-libra @hwanghyunjinismybae @liaatiny @minaateez @bamgeutsz @lovingbeomgyudayone @definitelynotherr @hyunj00 ✶⋆ Want to get notified? Join taglist here!

[heesngirl]

Backstory : They say sleeping with your partner is better than sleeping alone, and honestly, you didn’t really get it, until now. After a month of dating, you’re finally sleeping next to Heeseung.

Genre : Soft, fluff. Heeseung x MC reader.

Count : 3.2k

Note : "I know that smut content tends to get more recognition on this platform, but this time, I brought a softer piece, as it's necessary to understand the reference in the next draft I plan to share. I still hope you all enjoy it <3"

You had just poured the vegetables into the hot pan when the song playing on your Bluetooth speaker was interrupted by your phone’s ringtone, signaling an incoming call. You cursed under your breath, lowering the flame and pausing your sautéing to answer.

As soon as you saw your boyfriend’s name and contact photo on the screen, you regretted the words you had just muttered. You turned off the Bluetooth connection and answered the call, holding your phone between your ear and shoulder while refocusing on the pan on the stove.

— Hey, baby. You weren’t busy, were you? — his voice was the first thing you heard on the other end, and you couldn’t help but smile foolishly, as if he could see you.

— I was in the middle of making dinner when your call came in, — you replied, your tone a mix of mild reproach and excitement. At the same time, you added the sliced meat to the already sautéed vegetables. — But it’s not a problem. I don’t mind answering if it means I get to hear your voice for a while.

Your words made Heeseung chuckle, and he would have laughed even more if he could see the acrobatics you were performing to keep your phone from slipping off your shoulder while reaching for the spices to season the meat.

— I won’t take up too much of your time. I just wanted to ask if I could come over for a bit. I know it’s kind of late, but we were practicing until now, and they finally lifted my curfew, so I want to take the chance to see you, even if it’s just for an hour. What do you say?

You could hear the hopeful plea in his voice, and that was all it took for you to decide without a second thought.

— Have you eaten yet, or should I make extra for you? — you asked eagerly, secretly hoping he hadn’t eaten anything yet.

— Actually, I’d really appreciate it if you could save me some. The guys are going out to eat, but since I’m heading straight to your place, I guess that means you’ll have to feed me tonight. If you don’t mind, of course.

— Not at all. Just be careful on your way here. I’ll make sure everything’s ready when you arrive. — you assured him with a smile you could practically feel etched on your lips. You adjusted your phone again, stirring the meat in the pan.

— You really are amazing, you know that? — Heeseung said, his voice warm and affectionate, the kind of tone that always made your heart melt.

— It’s not a big deal, — you brushed off, though his words sent a flutter through your stomach. Wanting to move on quickly, you changed the subject. — I’ll be waiting for you, so don’t take too long.

After exchanging a final goodbye, you set your phone aside and went back to cooking. You chopped more meat and increased the portions, making sure there would be plenty for both of you. You wanted Heeseung to eat as much as he wanted until he was completely satisfied. The warm aroma of spices filled the kitchen, making you sigh contentedly, there was nothing better than the thought of sharing this meal with him.

Once the food was ready, you turned off the heat and let everything rest for a bit. Taking the chance, you headed to your room and quickly slipped into the bathroom for a short shower. You didn’t want the sweat from the kitchen heat or the lingering scent of spices clinging to you when Heeseung arrived. Under the warm water, you let the day's exhaustion fade away before getting dressed in comfy pajamas, something casual but still cute.

With your hair still slightly damp, you went back to the kitchen and started plating the food. You set the table, making sure everything was perfect, when suddenly, the sound of your doorbell made your heart skip a beat in anticipation.

You hurriedly finished the final touches, leaving the table set before making your way to the door. When you opened it, there he was Heeseung, his expression a mix of exhaustion from a long day and pure happiness at seeing you. Without hesitation, he stepped inside and pulled you close, his hand resting gently on the small of your back. He leaned in just enough to meet you, kissing you in that way that made sure you didn’t have to stand on your tiptoes—a sweet gesture that always made you feel special.

— Ready for dinner? — you asked, feeling the warmth of his presence.

— Ready for anything, as long as it’s with you, — he replied, his voice laced with affection and comfort, the kind of connection that made even the simplest moments feel invaluable. — By the way, I don’t know what smells better : you or the food. But both are making me dizzy.

— It’s the food waiting for you in the kitchen, that’s what smells so good. — you quipped quickly, trying to mask the nervous flutter his words caused. To distract yourself, you took his hand, intending to lead him to the table, but he gently stopped you with a slight squeeze of his fingers.

— Wait a sec, yeah? I need to use your bathroom first. I’m starving, but I’m even more sweaty and sticky from practice. — He let out a small, sheepish smile as he ran a hand through his damp hair.

— Of course, you can use my bathroom. There are clean towels in the lower drawers of the sink and a new toothbrush in one of the smaller compartments. — you informed him, gesturing toward the hallway.

— No worries, I brought mine in my bag. — he said, patting the backpack slung over his shoulder. It was only then that you noticed how stuffed it looked, as if he was carrying more than usual.

You watched as he made his way toward your room, his posture tired but still carrying that signature energy of his. His backpack piqued your curiosity for a second, but you brushed it off—guys always carried all sorts of things around. Returning to the kitchen, you took a seat, letting the peaceful atmosphere settle around you while you waited for Heeseung to come back and join you for dinner.

The distant sound of running water from the shower and the lingering warmth of the freshly cooked meal created a cozy ambiance. You felt lucky to share these little moments, and the thought of having dinner with him made it all the more special.

After a while, Heeseung appeared in the kitchen, his damp hair falling over his forehead, shirtless, wearing only sweatpants with a towel draped over his shoulders. He looked relaxed and effortless, but the sight of him like that— so casual and unexpected — made warmth rush to your cheeks. Flustered, you quickly lowered your gaze and focused on your phone screen, pretending to be completely engrossed in anything that wasn’t him.

Heeseung sits on the chair in front of you, and as soon as he does, you put your phone aside, focusing on the food in front of you both. You start eating together, and he fills the space with his voice, talking about his day and how busy they’ve been with practice. You listen attentively, but inevitably, you get lost watching how his damp hair falls in messy strands over his forehead, that new color shining differently under the soft kitchen light.

— Are you sure you like it? — he suddenly asks, interrupting his story as he notices your fixed gaze on his hair. His tone is a mix of curiosity and slight nervousness.

— What? Oh, yeah, of course, I like it… — you reply, somewhat surprised to have been caught staring at him. — It’s just that it’s a pretty drastic change. Going from black hair with green highlights to a nearly pink shade… well, it’s different.

— Do you dislike it? — he asks with a hint of concern, and you can see in his eyes that your opinion matters more to him than he lets on.

— Not at all. It actually suits you. I just wasn’t expecting to see you like this today, but I definitely don’t dislike it. — you answer sincerely, letting a small smile escape.

Heeseung relaxes at your words, and the two of you continue eating, feeling comfortable in each other’s presence. The conversation flows unhurriedly, accompanied by the sounds of cutlery and occasional laughter, filling the kitchen with a warmth that goes beyond just sharing a meal.

After finishing dinner, Heeseung offers to do the dishes, and you gratefully accept without hesitation. You knew the most tedious part of cooking was cleaning up afterward, so you didn’t argue at all and let him handle it. You perch on the kitchen island, watching him from that elevated position. From there, you have a perfect view of his exposed back as he moves at the sink, his muscles subtly tensing with each motion.

Heeseung breaks the silence, asking how your recent trip to Jeju to visit your grandparents went. His words seem to dampen your mood a little, and although you try to hide it, your shoulders slump, and your gaze drops to your hands as you fidget with your fingers.

— It was wonderful… until I ran into my parents and Joo Han’s parents, — you respond, your tone dimming. — As always, it turned chaotic.

Heeseung turns around upon hearing the shift in your voice. He sets the dishes aside, the water still running in the sink, and looks at you with a mix of concern and regret in his eyes.

— I’m sorry, baby… I didn’t mean to bring up something that might upset you. — he apologizes, his voice low and filled with genuine remorse for making you recall something unpleasant.

You lift your gaze and offer him a small reassuring smile, though it doesn’t completely erase the shadow in your eyes.

—You don’t have to apologize. You have every right to want to know how it went... you’re my boyfriend, after all — you assure him, though your voice still carries a hint of weariness. — I just don’t want to burden you with all my family drama. It’s already enough for me to deal with on my own.

Heeseung steps closer, quickly drying his hands with the towel draped over his shoulder. He places a comforting hand on your knee and looks at you with that sweet intensity that always manages to calm you.

— It doesn’t bother me to listen, and even less to help you carry that weight if you need it. I just want you to know you can count on me for anything, even if it’s just to listen in silence.

His sincerity comforts you, and for a moment, you let that little gray cloud hanging over you dissipate. You nod, letting him finish washing the dishes while the conversation shifts to lighter topics. Being with him, in moments like these, made everything complicated seem a little easier to handle.

When Heeseung finishes with the dishes, you slide off the counter, and the two of you leave the kitchen. As you walk down the hallway, you suggest playing some games on the Switch to relax. Heeseung enthusiastically tells you he also brought his own in his backpack, and when he tries to go get it, you stop him gently by taking his hand.

You look at him curiously, taking in his appearance: the sweatpants he’s wearing aren’t the same ones he arrived in, they’re completely different. You remember how odd it seemed that he brought his own toothbrush, and now also his console. You can’t help but wonder why he came so prepared when he supposedly was only visiting for an hour. Unable to let it go, you address it.

— Hee, why did you bring so many things if you were only coming for a short visit? — you ask, crossing your arms as you look at him, waiting for an answer.

Heeseung avoids your gaze, lowering his head and fidgeting with the drawstrings of his sweatpants. He seems caught, searching for the right way to explain himself, while you simply watch him, not taking your eyes off him.

— The truth is… I came prepared to stay the night with you. — he finally confesses, a small pout on his lips and a tone that mixes nervousness and a bit of embarrassment.

You stare at him, surprised, processing his words, and then frown, not in anger, but in shock and curiosity.

— Did you lie about practice running late? — you ask, trying to figure out if there’s more behind all this. Heeseung lifts his gaze, sincerity gleaming in his eyes, making you relax a little.

— I didn’t lie about that, I swear. We did practice late, and the curfew thing is also true — he pauses, taking a deep breath before continuing. — It’s just that… since I don’t have that restriction anymore, I wanted to take advantage and stay with you, to celebrate my new unlimited schedule by spending the night by your side. I didn’t tell you directly because I thought it might be awkward for you… and sometimes it’s easier to act than to talk. — he admits, scratching his neck, visibly flustered.

You stay silent for a moment, processing his words. The idea that he planned everything just to stay with you fills you with overwhelming fondness. Though his method caught you off guard, you couldn’t deny that you liked the idea of spending the night together. You slowly nod and let out a playful laugh.

— I guess you’re right. Sometimes it’s better to act first and talk later — you finally reply, relaxing and stepping closer to hug him. — But next time, you don’t need all that planning. Just tell me, I won’t say no. Honestly, I was wondering if we’d ever have the chance to sleep together.

Heeseung grins widely, relieved that he didn’t make you uncomfortable, and without saying more, you gently tug him toward the couch, ready to enjoy an hour of gaming.

The two of you quickly get absorbed in the game, entering a competitive mode that feels almost natural when it comes to Mario Party. If there was one thing that could bring out an entirely different side of you, it was playing games with intensity, completely immersed in the competition.

The match gets especially tense when Heeseung, with a strategic move, manages to steal one of your stars. You gasp indignantly, nearly throwing the console to the floor, but restrain yourself, determined not to lose focus, winning was still your goal.

The game continues with laughter, shouts, and playful banter until Heeseung finally wins. You get up from the couch, a mix of frustration and amusement on your face, pointing at him accusingly.

— You’re sleeping on the couch tonight! — you declare, jumping slightly on the sofa as if your anger were real. Heeseung bursts into laughter at seeing you so worked up, finding you both adorable and hilarious at the same time.

Without saying anything, he put the Switch aside and stood up, approaching you with a mischievous smile. Before you could react, he scooped you up in his arms and lifted you over his shoulder as if you were a sack of potatoes.

— Hee, put me down! — you protested, giving him small pats on his lower back while he laughed, but he kept walking toward the bedroom, unfazed by your weak attempts to struggle.

When you reached the room, he gently placed you on the bed and tucked you under the blankets, making sure you were comfortable. Then, he climbed in as well, lying beside you and snuggling close. He rested his head on your chest and took your right hand, guiding it to his hair; a silent request for you to pamper him a little.

You didn't complain, not even for a second. You started running your fingers through his silky hair, stroking it slowly. In that moment, all frustration over the game melted away.

— Can you sing me something? — you asked softly, feeling his breathing sync with yours. If there was something you loved more than anything, it was hearing his beautiful voice. This intimate, peaceful moment called for it.

Heeseung looked at you with a warm smile, closing his eyes as he adjusted himself more comfortably on you. Without thinking twice, he began to sing a soft melody. The notes floated through the air, filling the space with an indescribable serenity. You let yourself be wrapped in his voice, feeling that, at that moment, there was no place in the world you'd rather be.

He continued singing with his mellifluous voice, each note resonating like a whisper full of affection, caressing your soul. With your eyes closed, your fingers kept sliding through his hair, slowly and tenderly, as if you wanted to memorize every strand and every second of that moment. The warmth of his body against yours, the feel of his arm wrapped around your waist, and the steady rhythm of his breathing made you feel at peace, as if everything was perfect just because he was there.

When he finished singing, he remained silent, his eyes searching yours with a gaze that spoke volumes beyond words. With a gentle movement, he lifted himself just enough to bring his lips to yours, kissing you slowly and deeply, filled with the tenderness and love you both shared. It was a kiss that conveyed so much, making you feel loved and safe, as if, in that simple gesture, he was giving you his entire heart.

As he pulled away, his lips lingered just barely touching yours, and in a whisper meant only for you, he said:

— I love you, gorgeous.

Your heart beat a little faster, and with a smile full of emotion, you responded, caressing his cheek before leaning in to give him another kiss—this time short, but just as meaningful.

— I love you too, Hee.

The two of you remained in silence, letting those words settle in the air, sinking into your hearts. Heeseung adjusted himself a little more, wrapping an arm around you as you embraced him in return, finding the perfect position for both of you. Entwined in that warm embrace, you stayed there, enjoying the kind of peace that only comes from being with the one you love.

Little by little, the exhaustion of the day and the comfort of the moment took over, and both of you drifted into deep sleep, still holding each other, your heartbeats falling into the same rhythm. In that shared quiet, without needing any more words, your bodies and souls rested together, knowing that you were exactly where you were meant to be : In each other's arms.

The next post will be this couple making love for the first time.

[sterifels-blog]

Ornithomancy

part 1 of sheriff!john price x widowed!reader (fem)

🔗 masterlist

ornithomancy – the practice of interpreting the actions of birds to predict the future

────────────────────────────────────

There is a bird carcass by the well.

It is fresh, dewed with the evening’s breath, a mosaic of snapped bones and feathered ruin, the head twisted backwards as though it had tried to watch itself die. Its beak gapes, a tiny thing, glossy as obsidian, open in a silent note that will never finish.

You kneel.

The hem of your dress dampens in the dust, dark and silt-heavy, the scent of clay thick in the cold air. Two fingers press against the fragile chest, and you feel it—hollow, brittle. A thing no heavier than a secret. The ants are already at it, threading into the sockets, dismantling it piece by piece with an artisan’s patience. They know.

Everything here is meant to be devoured.

The chickens are restless. Claws scratch against the dirt, rhythmic, a slow percussion to a hymn only they understand. Their eyes, dark pinpricks of ink, stare from behind the slats of the coop, unblinking. Their small heads twitch, angular, wary. They know, too.

You lift the bird, curling it into the nest of your palms.

It weighs less than the ring you pawned last summer, the one that left a ghost of gold around your knuckle, the one that kept slipping loose from your fingers. You had never been thin enough for it. Or maybe you were never meant to wear it.

It had belonged to him, after all. Him.

The house behind you is an echo. A hollowed-out gourd, carved into something that only mimics a home, its walls flaking like old scabs under the weight of wind and time. The wood swells and shrinks with the seasons, like the lungs of something dying slow. The house breathes. Creaks. Expands under the strain of emptiness. No man inside. No voice to fill it.

Just you.

Just the birds.

You scatter seed as the dawn bruises the sky a bitter purple. The chickens rush forward, a tide of hunger on spindle-legs, wings flaring as beaks dart, sharp and eager. A robin lands nearby, its chest a furious red wound, its small feet flexing in the loose dirt. It watches you, wary, its head canting to the side in that erratic, clipped way—tiny heart hammering, all instinct, all hunger.

You can still hear his voice in the grain of the wood. The walls have been pickled in it, his laughter soaked into the floors, his anger pressed into the beams. You hear it when you scrape a knife across the cutting board, when the wind slithers through the cracks in the windowpane. You hear it in the rustle of his old coat hanging by the door, in the scuff marks his boots left against the threshold.

Two years.

Two years, and he is still here, in the most subtle of ways. In the rot of the wood. In the rust of the nails. In the hinge that groans when you push the door open, in the bite of the cold against your empty hand.

You had loved him once.

Had pressed your ear to his chest and listened to the slow, steady thrum of his heart, convinced it was a thing strong enough to last forever.

But you know better now.

Forever is nothing but bones in the dirt.

The well groans when you haul the bucket up, the old rope peeling in your hands, fiber by fiber, until it’s no longer rope but the suggestion of it—faint, unraveling, on the verge of forgetting itself. The water sloshes, heavy, thick with the scent of iron and stone. You dip the dead bird into it. Hold it under until the dust floats away, until the feathers slick back, revealing the small, pale frame beneath.

A burial, of sorts. Not one he would have bothered with.

Your husband never cared much for birds.

They were things to be shot from the sky, to be plucked and gutted, to be eaten and discarded, their hollow bones tossed into the fire, curling in the heat until they crumbled to nothing.

He had been like that. Always eating, always consuming, his hunger a cavernous thing that nothing could quite fill. Money, drink, the warmth of your body beside him in the night—none of it had ever been enough. A famine in the shape of a man, gnawing on whatever he could steal. Whatever he could gamble.

You wonder, sometimes, if the earth felt the same when it swallowed him.

The sun is rising now. The world stirs, stretching its limbs. The chickens are quiet, their bellies full. The robin is gone. Only the sky remains, an open maw of crystalline blue, swallowing the last of the night. The wind moves through the brittle grass, a slow sigh, the whisper of something distant, something inevitable.

You let the bird sink.

And the water closes over it, black and endless.

───────────────────

The house is hungry.

You feel it in the walls, in the way they exhale cold breath into your palms when you press against them. The wind seeps in, shivering between the splintered beams, licking at your ankles where the floorboards gape open like missing teeth on fleshy gums. It groans, soft and tired, settling in the night’s embrace. A carcass picked clean, nothing left but frame and sinew, waiting to be swallowed by time.

You don’t light a lamp.

The dark is kinder, in its way. It doesn’t show the dust creeping like moss across the furniture, doesn’t carve out the jagged edges of a home long since abandoned by warmth. Shadows soften the ruin, allow you to pretend—for just a moment—that nothing has changed. That he might still walk through the door, shaking off the cold, muttering about the damn horses again.

But ghosts don’t open doors.

And if he’s haunting anything, it isn’t this house. Men like him don’t linger. They rot.

The chair by the hearth still holds his imprint, worn smooth by the weight of him. You don’t sit in it. Can’t. It feels like trespassing. Like pressing your hand into wet cement and realizing it’ll never wash off.

Instead, you stand by the table, fingers brushing the lip of an empty cup.

He used to leave coffee rings on the wood, dark crescents where the heat bled into the grain, branding the surface. You hated it. Would scrub at them with vinegar, with salt, with the raw scrape of your nails—anything to make them disappear. But the stains remain.

Some things never wash out.

You remember the last time he sat there. Back curved, arms braced against the table, head in his hands. A man crumpled, worn at the edges, a candle burning too hot at the wick.

“I just need time,” he’d said.

You had watched him, waiting for something—anything—that would make you believe him.

“Just a little more time.”

He was always borrowing time. Hoarding it. Spending it in rooms where men made gods of luck, pressing his fingers into the green felt of a poker table like it might forgive him for the sins he carried under his nails.

You should have known, then, that he was speaking of time the same way a dying man speaks of air. Not as something he had, but something he was running out of.

And when it ran out—

You breathe.

The stove is cold. You haven’t cooked in days. The hens have gone to roost, their soft murmurs drifting through the cracks in the coop. Outside, something moves through the grass, a slow rustle, a whisper of life in the stillness.

A fox, maybe. Or something else. You don’t look.

Instead, you reach for the kettle, pour water into the metal basin by the window. The pump’s been temperamental lately, giving nothing but a cough of rust some mornings. You’ll need to fix it. One more thing to do. One more thing to mend.

You scrub your hands, nails digging into the beds of your fingers, scraping away the dirt, the cold, the ache. It doesn’t help. Doesn’t unmake the quiet that’s settled into your bones, curled against your ribs like a waiting thing.

A woman alone is a carcass waiting to be stripped clean. You dry your hands on the apron hanging from the peg.

Outside, the wind shifts. A change in the air. The night pressing in.

And the house—

The house is still empty.

[xwinterwidowx]

this is based on my personal hc that whenever Shadow gets angry or sad, he curls up into a ball and doesn't talk to or be around anyone. if you enjoyed this please comment/repost and like i love reading what you guys have to say!! i still have more fics coming up i just have to finish writing them hopefully i can do that tn <3

Shadow had been a lot of places. Hence, he had picked up some things along the way. One thing was that when he was sad, he would curl up into a ball and not speak or eat. He would stay like that until he felt better. Unfortunately, Sonic didn't know about this because he had never seen it happen, and Shadow hadn't told him. So when he walked in and saw Shadow like that, he started teasing him.

"Shadow? What'cha doing? Looks like fun." Sonic sits down next to the black ball of hedgehog quills. "C'mon, Shads, you can't be that mad, can you?" When Sonic gets no response, he starts being even more annoying than usual. "Faker, Im bored! Lets do something, please." After a few minutes of this, Shadow just mumbles a few words that takes Sonic a few seconds to comprehend.

"Go away, Sonic."

"Go away? Why?" Sonic looks confused, and if Shadow wasn't mad, he would've found it adorable.

"Im not in the mood for this."

"When are you ever? Come on, Shadow!" Sonic groans out of boredom.

"Sonic, stop!" Shadow yells as he rolls out of his ball. Sonic takes a small step back.

"Shadow? Are you okay?" He tries stepping forward but Shadow just steps back again.

"Yes, I'm fine," he growls. "Just go away. I'm not in the mood."

"Shadow, if somethings wrong, you can just tell m-"

"Nothing's wrong! Can't you just leave me alone? You're pissing me off!" Sonic feels his heart ache at how angry Shadow looks but he doesn't say anything. He just leaves, and it only takes Shadow a few mere seconds to realize what he did. He immediately starts walking after Sonic. "Sonic," he murmurs when he catches him. "I'm sorry. I-I'm sorry."

"Shadow, its fine... you don't have to say that, its okay to be mad."

"Not at you. Not when you didn't do anything wrong. I just... I can't control my anger sometimes. You didn't do anything wrong, sun-sun."

"I was annoying you," Sonic mumbles and buries his face in Shadow's white fur.

"You didn't know I wasn't in a good mood." Shadow scratches behind his boyfriend's ears and smiles when he hears a soft purr from him.

"I still shouldn't have done that. Are you okay?" he murmurs.

"I've just had a long day. A long week, actually. I haven't been able to relax properly."

"Do you wanna go relax now?" Sonic grabs Shadow's hand and starts walking back towards their room. Shadow just nods and lets Sonic drag him to their room. They get on the bed and Sonic lays on top of Shadow. "Tell me what happened this week."

"Are you sure you want to listen to it?" Shadow questions.

"Of course I do. As long as you-"

"Scratch your ears?" Shadow snorts and starts doing exactly that.

"I'm listening to whatever you have to say," Sonic smiles.

[starlightbuckk]

recents reads for me <3

Love You 'Til The End | perpetual_wallflower on ao3

summary: Buck offers up a date with a firefighter, himself, for a silent charity auction and ends up exchanging letters with a secret admirer and a first date set for Valentine’s Day several weeks away that will change his life.my thoughts: this was soooooo sweet, def one of my fav valentine fics i read this year. i particularly also was drawn to this characterization of eddie.

the rollercoaster | dqstcrdly on ao3 and twitter

summary: Buck has a manic episode. He slowly descends into the throes of mania, and the people who love him notice that something is wrong. All of them, particularly Eddie, are there to help him pick up the pieces in the aftermath. my thoughts: a fic you think about forever. buck's descent into the manic episode is deeply emotional and by the end i was crying.

I’ll tell them put me back in it (and I would do it again) | paleredheadinascifi on ao3/ palwritesfics on twitter

summary: Eddie doesn't know how to make his listening history private. Buck doesn't know what to do with the words in front of his eyes. Chris cannot believe he has to deal with either of them. my thoughts: i read lots of fun, lighthearted fics this past month and this one was no exception. silly boys who are in love with each other, one of whom does not understand how spotify works. chris was especially funny in this one.

the parts we play | @calinaannehart on ao3 and tumblr

summary: Buck isn’t a firefighter, he just plays one on TV, or at least that’s what he’s about to do. He’s offered the chance to shadow the 118 to learn what it’s like to be a firefighter. Eddie is fed up with these Hollywood types turning up and feigning interest in the job that he loves. Buck, however, is nothing like that and everyone can see the connection they have. my thoughts: okkkkk this is totally not what i would usually read (famous aus), but i loved it. it was interested to read a fic where eddie is the one confident in his sexuality and not buck, i enjoyed the dynamic and would love to see more of it done.

just like magic | weewooforever on ao3/ maydaydiiaz on twitter

part one of the witch eddie cinematic universe

summary: eddie diaz is a witch and his magic leads him right to evan buckley. my thoughts: have been LOVING!! this witch au, this is part 1 of i think 5?? and the series is ongoing. very lighthearted and sweet.

the mortifying ordeal of being known | Polish_Amber on ao3/ @the-amber-raven on tumblr

summary: the AU where miscommunication abounds as Eddie seeks advice about his new relationship, Bobby despairs over his adopted son's career prospects and his refusal to talk about it, and Evan Buckley-Nash juggles training at the fire academy, building a family with his new boyfriend, and trying to work out how to tell his overprotective dad that he's already chosen the life he wants, actually. my thoughts: this was fantastic. i need to make my way through the rest of the series. i honestly eat up any bobby and buck father-son relationship and this one was done in an honest, yet unique way.

plant new seeds in the melody | @bibuckleyforever on ao3 and tumblr

summary: Eddie's all but given up on dating when he meets Buck at the scene of a call. Chimney and Hen think of it as a sign from the universe. Buck and Eddie think of it as a chance to finally get the love story they've always wanted. my thoughts: sweet, different first meeting alternate universe. love when one of them isn't a firefighter because i love seeing what jobs authors have them do instead. this will be reread.

fill me full (of love and desire) | tiredwrites on ao3

summary: when buck comes in stormy-eyed and brimming with anger, they all confront him to get the full story and find out he's fresh off a breakup, has blue-balls, and is reeling from the reveal his ex has a micropenis, so what does eddie do to make it better? he loves (and fucks) buck better than tommy ever could. and finally makes buck realize he's been eddie's this entire time. my thoughts: this was Everything. i went from giggling to in awe of how well-written this smut was. i am so sorry tommy (not really), but i am not sorry for how well buck got fucked.

Look How They Align | allyasavedtheday on ao3/ @littlespoonevan on tumblr

summary: In which Buck has a crush on the hot dad of the new kid in his daughter's class. The hot dad who also happens to be his new co-worker. Yeah, this is fine. my thoughts: there is a scene in chapter two of this fic that made me cry. i love single dad+different first meeting aus. the relationship that grows between the 4 of them is simply so special and i loved reading it.

hope I make it through the night | arcanaphora on ao3

summary: Eddie and Buck go on an awkward first date. my thoughts: hehehehehe this is kinda canon for me. idc if its not realistic. i am a firm believer that buddie's first date will be awkward as hell bc neither of them know how to date someone they have actual feelings for (let alone their best friend).

as always, give a reblog, a follow, or share your fic thoughts.

later this week i will be posting my first rec for a specific prompt/trope. i'm excited for this one, it's one of my favs.

if you have any requests for a specific prompt/trope recs, leave it in my ask and i'll add it to my list <3