#floral laundry room | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gyuzgrl · 8 months ago

Text

sixth sense //jww//

anon req- yandere/stalker Wonwoo

summary- when watching you wasn't enough, he'd sneak into your house to get himself off. what happens when Wonwoo realizes he might be able to get something more tonight?

wc- 6k

Wonwoo swore this would be the last time. As his feet carried him further and further, across the street into private property, he promised himself that this was it.

No more.

You see, no matter how hard he tried, Wonwoo just couldn't stop watching you. Where you walked around on campus, the way you spoke to just about everyone so sweetly, how you secretly drifted off in class- he saw it all.

He'd spend hours and hours staring at your face, observing the way your features would morph into all sorts of expressions- so much so he now knows them by heart.

What started as something innocent, however, turned much darker when he realised that you lived in the house opposite his.

Night upon night, Wonwoo would sit by his window, watching, observing as you went about your life, completely unaware.

Your curtains were open- always were.

He knew when you studied, when you slept, when you touched yourself. You were so naive, so innocent, he really just couldn't help himself.

You made it so easy.

And now he's here, inside your house- with an hour to spend and a filthy, filthy imagination.

He's been here a couple of times before. Once when you'd left to go study at the library, another time when Somi and you went out for brunch, last week when your mother and you went shopping.

This time was different, though.

This time, you'd left him a little present on your bed.

As he walks into your room with practiced ease, Wonwoo's breath catches at the sight of pretty pink lingerie and a matching vibrator, laying exposed on your duvet.

'oh you have plans tonight, don't you?'

His thoughts show so clearly on his face- that signature Wonwoo smirk, corners of his lips just barely tilting up, head tipping to one side as his eyes linger over the pink lacey fabric.

Tentatively, he takes hold of the toy, clasping it in his palm, feeling the smooth, shiny plastic against his skin. Wonwoo's thoughts drift to how you'd use it in a few hours, completely unaware that he's been touching it- in turn, indirectly touching you.

'didn't know you liked this kinda stuff,'

'dirty girl'

Your room's mostly clean, usually is, save for the tangle of wires under your desk and a few odd clothes tossed at the foot of your closet. The laundry bin's full; a lid keeps it under control, but fails to hide the silky red fabric of your panties- the ones he saw you take off earlier this morning.

His eyes light up. The vibrator is long forgotten.

Time is of the essence here- there's not a lot of it left- so he grabs the red fabric in a haste and holds it to his face, inhaling deeply to take in your scent.

"fuck-" he groans softly, knees weakening at how goddamn good you smell. There's a hint of that fabric softener you use, clean and floral, but there's also the intoxicating scent of you.

The most intimate part of you.

Wonwoo settles on your duvet, nose still buried into your panties, and his eyes flutter closed as an evil hand snakes it's way into his sweatpants.

His cock jumps at the contact, and he hisses, taking his lower lip in between his teeth. Thoughts of you flood his mind, and he replays the image of you from two nights ago, with your naked body on full display as you lay in this exact spot, touching that pretty cunt of yours.

Slowly, Wonwoo begins to pump himself, squeezing hard around his girth, trying to satiate that red hot pit of desire screaming within.

He takes in a shaky breath, letting you flood his senses, and he feels himself grow in his fist, now moving faster.

Wonwoo thinks of you- of your voice, of your face, of your body. How you'd sound, whimpering, sobbing under him, how your features would settle so perfectly into utter bliss, how your skin; soft to the touch, would jump under his fingertips.

Within minutes, he feels his cock throb. It's hot and heavy in his hand, the tip burns a fiery shade of red as he works himself up to his release pumping faster as he takes you in desperately.

"f-fuck y/n" he chokes out, head falling back into your pillows.

His fist tightens around the width of his dick, trying to mimic what he thinks you'll feel like, and in seconds he tips over the edge. Hot, white ropes stream out of his cock, dribbling out of the tip, and he hunches over quickly to your nightstand to pluck out a tissue or two.

As he cleans himself off, the guilt hits, like it always does.

This is wrong, he knows it is, but he really just can't bring himself to stop. It's as though you've cast a spell on him and now he's become your very own moon- chasing after you, endlessly.

Wonwoo tidies up the bed, fixing your sheets, fluffing up your duvet, and he deposits- albeit reluctantly- your panties back to their assigned spot in the laundry bin.

15 minutes till you come back home.

He heads to your kitchen and discards his soiled tissues into the garbage shoot, destroying all the evidence that he was ever here.

There's still a bit of time left for him, so he looks through your pantry, face falling when he sees the endless sea of instant-meal cartons and ramen packets.

'you really should take better care of yourself,'

Just as he's about to close the cabinet, something catches him eye.

A hand blender- rather, the hand blender you borrowed from him last week. In a sudden burst of genius, Wonwoo comes up with a plan.

It's hasty, definitely reckless, but he has a shot at getting to touch you.

step 1- hide the blender inside the highest shelf of your pantry.

check.

step 2- head back home, shower, put on the cologne you seem you like, change into loose grey sweats and a fitted white wife beater.

check.

step 3- wait till you get home and watch as you settle into bed, ready to play.

check.

step 4- once you begin to work yourself up, almost on the verge of release, that's when he'll strike, ringing your doorbell to ask for his blender.

Wonwoo's heart thuds against his chest as he presses your doorbell. The sound echoes around in his head and he swears he can feel his heart in his throat. Scuffling footsteps draw his attention back to you, and he smirks, imaging what you look like right now; scrambling around to cover yourself up, frustrated that you've been interrupted.

The distinct slap of your house slippers against wooden floors grows louder and louder, in time with Wonwoo's speeding heart, and he feels his mouth go dry.

This is happening.

Creaking your door open, you pop your head out, eyes widening when you see Wonwoo at your doorstep.

"this a bad time?" he asks, tilting his head to the side as his eyes rake over your body, observing the loosely tied robe you've covered up with.

"uh n-no, what's up Won?"

Fuck there was that petname you used all the time. He hated petnames, hated when people called him stuff like that, but with you? God, there was something so cute about it when you said his name like that. Makes him want to push you down and fuck you senseless right here on your doorstep.

"you remember that blender you borrowed? I kinda need it right now," his voice is deep as he speaks, and you notice his apperance.

Tight white vest, baggy grey sweatpants, wet hair- fuck he's your very own wet dream, delivered right to your doorstep. A deep blush spreads across your cheeks and you wonder if he knows what you've been up to.

"y-yeah, come in I've got it around here somewhere," you stutter, stepping back to let him in. Wonwoo steps forward, his long legs closing the distance between your bodies, and you gasp, eyes flicking over to his as he towers over you, barely an inch between your frame and his.

Once again, he let's his eyes skim over you, taking note of the way your cheeks heat up under his stare.

'oh? you like this, don't you?'

There's that smirk again, the knowing twitch of his lips, the condescending look in his eye. He's assured, you're far too desperate to turn him down when he makes his move.

Despite the rambling thoughts inside him, Wonwoo appears composed. He quirks a brow at you, looking almost unimpressed, and you scramble around for words..

"you w- you walk really um, really fast,"

"you don't," he states, bemused, "I really do need that blender, though."

Embarrassed, your skin burns crimson and your lips part, forming an 'o' shape.

"o-oh uh yeah that. it should be in here," you mutter, sauntering your way over to the kitchen with him trailing right behind.

Wonwoo has to physically restrain himself from reaching out to run his palm over the curve of your ass, swaying enticingly as you walk.

'fuck you made this so hard-'

You slip behind the kitchen island, throwing a quick glance his way over your shoulder, before opening up the first cabinet- the one that originally did have Wonwoo's blender.

Clumsy hands, pat around the surface of the shelf in vain, and you turn around, pouting. Wonwoo thinks this is his breaking point (it isn't, but still).

"not here, sorry this might take a while Won"

His heart swells at the petname, and inside he's got fireworks going off. On the outside, however, he remains unmoved.

"yeah take your time, baby, I've got all evening"

You flush.

He called you baby.

Turning to face him, you offer a watery, nervous smile.

"m'sorry Wonnie"

'oh fuck me-'

You turn back around pulling open another cabinet, and then another and another. Moving from the ones at eye level, you kneel down, digging through the shelves under your counter top. The angle makes Wonwoo dizzy.

'you're doing this on purpose, I swear'

On your knees, eyes a little teary from embarrassment, you look up at him, shaking your head. This is the sixth shelf.

"sorry-"

"you're good, here- I'll help you look"

Wonwoo's voice soothes through you, it's low timbre running along your nerves like guitar strings. He steps beside you, eyes scanning over the counter top as you stand up and open your highest cabinet.

You stand on your tip toes, arm fully outstretched, and you begin to search around; this time in the right cabinet. As your fingertips glaze over something that feels like a blender, your eyes light up, and Wonwoo, standing behind you, takes notice.

"think it's here"

The only issue now, is that you can't reach it. It's too high up for you to grasp properly. You stretch as far as you can, straining your body as you try to reach the little plastic device, and before you know what's happening, you feel a presence directly behind you.

Wonwoo.

His chest pushes flush against your back as his arm extends out far beyond yours, and you let out a surprised squeak.

He grins.

The hard muscle of his torso has your mouth watering, only adding to your desperation. Sure, having your orgasm so rudely ripped away is one thing, but to have Jeon Wonwoo of all people, dressed the way he is, pushing up against you, all while you're defenseless and unable to satisfy yourself? Oh this is just pure torture.

"found it" he whispers right above your ear, his breath tickling the shell of it. You shudder.

Wonwoo brings his arm back down, setting the item down on the counter. You turn around, caged between his arms, and your knees go weak at the sight in front of you.

The thick muscles of his arms are on full display, veins jutting out deliciously right beside you. Wonwoo's eyes stay trained on your own, a dark desire, a hunger, running wild in them.

Suddenly, you realise, your little bullet vibrator won't be enough for you tonight.

You gulp noticing the proximity of your bodies, of your faces, and Wonwoo smirks.

"you're all red,"

"s-shut up"

"but you are, I mean look at these" he grins, bringing his fingers up to press your cheeks together. "so fuckin' cute when you blush,"

You're stunned into silence.

"and this-" he motions to your robe, now loose, falling apart at your cleavage, revealing the delicate pink lace of your bra, "who's this for?"

Your eyes almost double in size when you glance down, and you scramble to adjust yourself.

"it's nothing! I was just- I was just um,"

"just what?"

Your brows scrunch up as you bite your lip, suddenly conscious of your surroundings, and you avoid his gaze, opting to look down at the fabric of his vest.

"were you playing with yourself?"

You shake your head furiously, tears welling in your eyes. God, this is embarrassing but for some reason, you find yourself growing hotter, wetter by the second, with your body pressed up against his.

"dirty girl,"

Wonwoo's voice is sultry and low, he's practically purring at you, eyes glazed over with desire. The way he calls you has your cunt clenching down around empty space, and you know you need this. You need him.

"if I was t-touching myself, would you be upset?"

'hook, line, and sinker.'

"oh princess, you were just trynna feel good, of course I won't be upset" he coos, stroking your hair.

"a-and if I say that I was thinking of y-"

"hm?"

"if I say that I was thinking of you, while I was... y'know, would you be mad?"

Oh he wasn't expecting that.

Not one bit.

The stoic, unmoving persona dissipates within seconds and Wonwoo let's out a shaky breath, bringing his face closer to yours, leaving barely an inch of space.

"not at all,"

There's a short pause as you both share understanding glances- a wordless confession.

"this is my mess to fix, isn't it?" he whispers, breath fanning over your face, burning hot against your cheeks.

You nod, desperately, and he leans his forehead against yours.

"and you want me to fix it, baby?"

"please," you whimper, pressing your thighs together helplessly.

Wasting not a second more, rather, unable to wait a second more, Wonwoo pushes his lips to yours, enveloping them in a hungry, needy kiss.

Hot, wet skin greets your mouth, cradling your lower lip as he sucks feverishly at the tender flesh. Wonwoo slides a hand up to your chin, tilting your face up between his thumb and forefinger, and you gasp when he prods his tongue into your mouth.

A pathetic whimper escapes you, and you give in to his body.

"you want this?" he pants, his breath hot, meshing with your own.

"I do- fuck I really do Wonnie"

Your voice is whiny, your eyes gloss over, Wonwoo curses under his breath.

Without warning, he slides his hands under your thighs, and hoists your body up, moving you to sit on the counter. You gasp at how easily he manages to lift you- like you're a fragile little doll, completely at his mercy.

As your thighs spill out from under the robe, they make contact with the cool, hard marble below, and you jump at the sudden sensation.

The fabric of your robe rides up, giving Wonwoo access to the hem of your panties, and his eyes flick down, darkening considerably when he looks at your pink lingerie.

"oh? what's this you're wearing?" There's a smirk in his voice, plain as day. His hands smooth over the front of your thighs, stopping right at the edge of the robe.

"may I?"

His eyes draw back up to yours, and he looks at you, the question genuine in his gaze.

"yes," you breathe, swallowing at the thick lump in your throat.

Eager hands slide up, disappearing momentarily under your robe to feel you first, before pulling the loose fabric apart completely.

Wonwoo slips the silky fabric over your shoulders, letting it pool around your thighs on the counter, and it's as though life presses pause for a while.

He stares at you in awe, in wonder, eyes tracing over every curve, every contour of your body and the lace against it.

"you're so beautiful-" he shudders, unable to stop himself from looking.

"I am?"

Wonwoo rolls his eyes.

"what, you didn't know?"

"uh uh," you shake your head, staring up at him through thick lashes, "nobody's called me that before"

There's a pause. You can practically hear the gears twisting and turning in Wonwoo's head, with his brow set in a frown.

'you really didn't know'

'how do I show yo-'

His lips twitch up, revelation written all over his face.

"as much as I'd love to fuck you into this counter, there's something better in store upstairs,"

"u-upstairs? but how do-"

"shh, princess, don't bother your pretty head about silly things, hm?" he cooes, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

In a swift motion, you feel the surface beneath you shift away as Wonwoo lifts you into his arms, hands hooked under the flesh of your ass.

You yelp, eyes wide with panic, but the adoring grin painted on his face calms you down. He walks up the stairs, turning to the right, unlocking your door.

"but how do you kno-"

"patience, pretty- we'll talk when I'm done with you" his voice takes on a darker tone, and you feel your arousal seep through the flimsy lace of your panties. Feeling the tip of his fingers dampen, Wonwoo smirks knowingly.

"someone's eager"

You blush, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, but Wonwoo's quick to pull you back.

"don't you dare hide from me."

The familiar, plush mattress of your bed greets your thighs as he sets you down gently, eyes practically glued to your face, scanning for discomfort.

"if you wanna stop you're gonna tell me, kay? if you can't use your words, tap twice" he says, bringing your hand to his bicep.

"uhuh" Your eyes are hazy, staring into his, as you marvel at how breathtaking he looks crouched down towards you, watching, observing.

Your hand smoothes over his muscles, dipping into the ridges, feeling how firm and strong he really is. Wonwoo shivers under your touch, revelling in how soft your fingers feel tracing over his skin.

"keep touching me and this is gonna go a lot different than how I planned,"

"oh yeah? what did you have planned?"

"you see that mirror there?" he tips his head to the side, angling it toward the mirror standing opposite your bed,

"I'm gonna make you watch."

Wonwoo crawls his way up the mattress, shifting himself to sit up against the head board. His legs are folded at the knees, spread just enough to fit you in between, and he smirks.

An arm moves to rest on his knee, and he crooks two fingers at you, a dangerous smirk playing at his lips.

"c'mere"

Wordlessly, you obey, moving shyly into his embrace, facing him so innocently, Wonwoo can barely bring himself to tell you that you need to turn around.

You shuffle onto your shins, awaiting his next command, and he sighs.

"so fuckin' eager- god I bet you're soaking"

Bashfully, you nod your head, eyes lowered.

"turn around for me, hm?" he ushers, his voice gentle yet firm, and you comply once again, turning in between his knees.

The sight before you has your face flaming. Right there on the wall sits a painting of you and Wonwoo, exposing your most intimate moments, bringing them to view. Your eyes meet in the mirror, and his own shine knowingly at the blush searing across your cheeks.

"keep your eyes on us, sweetheart" he mumbles into your ear, breath ghosting over the sensitive flesh, leaving a trail of goosebumps spreading over your neck and shoulder. "don't you dare look away"

A soft whimper escapes you as Wonwoo's lips attach themselves to the skin just below your ear, kissing so gently it raises the tiny hairs on your neck. Your eyes narrow in on the spot connecting your bodies- his lips, your neck- and you feel yourself grow hotter, needier, just from the sight alone.

Leaving wet, dull red marks as he moves to the side, Wonwoo reaches a sensitive spot just above your collar bone, grinning against your skin when you gasp.

"see how pretty you look right now? all marked up for me- all mine,"

"a-all yours," you breathe, head lopping to the side, giving him better access to your neck.

His hands grasp your shoulders, smoothing down your arms slowly before settling at your stomach, essentially caging you into himself.

The sharp sting of his teeth nipping at your skin, the way he holds you so secure, how his voice- sensual and deep like the ocean- resonates deep inside you; it's simultaneously soothing and exciting.

While one part of you wants to melt into him, let yourself drown in the ebb and flow of his voice, the other part is on fire, raging within you, begging to be quenched.

"can I take this off?" he murmurs into your skin, hands grazing over the hem of your bra.

"please,"

Tantalisingly slow, Wonwoo rakes his nails lightly along the width of your bra, until they find your clasp.

Deftly, he clicks you free, ridding your body of the fitted fabric.

"oh would you just- just look at yourself, christ-"

Feverish hands slide under your arms, cupping your breasts, toying with your nipples, as your eyes remain trained on yourself and on the way he handles you.

Wonwoo kneads the flesh of your breasts, squeezing the supple flesh in his grasp, feeling how you fill up his palm so perfectly.

"Wonnie-" you whimper, watching how he manhandles your body, doing as he pleases with you.

"that's right, baby, Wonnie's right here"

His lips resume their work on your neck, pressing sloppy, heated kisses along your skin, occassionally nibbling at a particularly sensitive spot.

The hardened peaks of your breasts poke out enticingly, and Wonwoo knows it'll be criminal to leave them untouched. He pinches each one between his forefinger and thumb, rolling, tugging, squeezing the dark nubs, giving you a different kind of pleasure.

"oh my god-" you gasp, back arching when he tweaks one of your nipples with more pressure than before.

The motion sends a jolt of light all over your body, and you feel yourself yearning for more.

"didn't know you were such a dirty girl," he mumbles into your skin, "letting me touch you like this- must've needed a cock inside you really fucking bad, yeah?"

"uh uh- wanted you for so long Wonnie, just you"

Your voice is embarrassingly whiny and breathy, but Wonwoo hears you loud and clear. He looks at your reflection, meeting your eyes.

"just me, huh?"

You nod, biting your lip, suddenly embarrassed of your sudden confession-

"I- I like you,"

Wonwoo let's out a quivering breath, hands leaving your chest to pull you into a hug. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, taking in your scent as he leaves you with a muffled- "I like you too, god I really like you"

He sighs into your skin, relaxing as he doesn't have to hold his cards so close to his chest anymore. His feelings, your feelings, were out in the open. You feel for him the way he feels for you and that's enough.

The moment you share is almost sweet enough to let you forget the ache deep in your cunt.

Almost.

You need him.

"Wonnie,"

"yeah baby?"

"need you to touch me" Your voice is a mere whimper, you sound pathetic, but you can't bring yourself to care.

The corners of his lips turn up into a sly smirk, and you feel it against your skin. Wonwoo lifts his head, eyes finding yours, and you note a dangerous fire dancing behind his gaze.

His ankles hook over your own, trapping your legs under his as he spreads you open, completely at his mercy. You gasp, feeling your limbs move without your command, and Wonwoo mimics you, mocking your naive surprise.

"oh look at how pretty-" he mirrors your gasp, your wide-eyed expression, "all spread out for me, hm?"

For some reason, you can't bring yourself to bite back. Insults and snarky remarks flood your mind, and you chastise him internally, calling him an asshole, a cocky, arrogant idiot; but the sight in front of you brings you back to reality.

You like this- you like being mocked and ridiculed. You like being at his mercy, unable to control your body. The flush on your cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, tells you all you need to know.

Curse him in your head all you want, your body likes this.

Wonwoo let's his hand trail down, snaking past your collarbones, your tummy, just above the hem of your panties. You watch, transfixed, as his touch raises the tiny hairs on your body, creating a path of goosebumps.

A thick lump forms in your throat when he reaches where you need him most, and Wonwoo notices how your eyes are narrowed in on his hand.

"good girl, keep looking at yourself baby-" he breathes into your hair, sending a shudder down your spine.

Your heart swells at his praise, and you look at him, wide-eyed.

"hey," he warns, sliding a finger along your clothed slit before pressing down on your clit, "here. keep your eyes right here- you're gonna watch me fuck you,"

Your hips jerk up, jolting at the sudden stimulation, but his legs force you back down, pushing your body further against him.

Words escape you, your mouth feels dry, and your eyes snap back to the image of your clothed sex. The way his finger toys with your clit, teasing just enough, has you growing so desperate, you're willing to do just about anything to get him to touch you.

"Wonnie p-please," you shudder as his finger presses into you again, "please just- oh," Your voice breaks off into a broken moan when Wonwoo begins to rub firm circles into your clit.

The textured fabric of your lingerie adds an additional layer of stimulation to your nerves, sending sparks flying all over your skin like scattered fireworks.

"please?" he echoes, his tone mocking your own.

His fingers move faster, pushing down on your most sensitive spot, and you can't help but stare shamelessly at how effortlessly he plays with you.

Wonwoo reads the silent language of your body like no other, watching each crease in your forehead, each stutter of your hips to see what you need. Those long, slender fingers flick at you so easily, so deftly, it's as though he knows you better than you know yourself.

Soon enough, your clit throbs under his touch, and he knows you're close.

"oh sweetheart-" he coos, "I haven't even touched you yet-"

Your cunt clenches down at his condescending tone, anticipation building to a shocking crescendo. Just how far is he going to push you?

"m'gonna- fuck m'gonna cum-" you moan, head tipping back. Your legs twitch under his, and your thighs work tirelessly to press together, but in vain.

You're trapped.

"aw baby look," Wonwoo brings his free hand up to clasp your neck, forcibly turning your head straight. "so pretty like this- fuck you're shaking,"

Your eyes flick over your reflection, hazy as ever, and you feel your orgasm coming on. There's something so sexy about watching yourself come undone, watching Wonwoo spread you apart and use you like a little toy.

A wave of pleasure, approaching fast, washes over you as he works you up to your orgasm. The rough texture of your panties has you drooling, and soon enough, you're nerves ache from overstimulation.

"that's it, princess- so good for me,"

Wonwoo pushes the crotch of your panties aside, without warning, and dips two fingers into your cunt, pushing deep inside to collect your essence. Your body jolts in his embrace, thighs tensing with effort to squirm away from him, but again, there's no escaping.

"oh you taste like heaven," he groans, slipping his fingers into his mouth, licking up every drop he collected.

You find yourself entranced by the sight, watching him clean off his fingers, slipping his tongue so deftly between each digit, you can't help but wonder what it would feel like inside you.

Noticing the fascination with which you observe him, Wonwoo shoots you a sly smirk, letting your legs slip free.

'I know what you're thinking,'

"turn around,"

Your body moves on its own, following his voice, and you shift in his arms with your back to the mirror.

"now c'mere," he licks his lips, moving his hands to your waist, pulling you onto his thigh.

Within seconds, his lips are on yours, pressing needy, hungry kisses to your mouth. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you dizzy, in dire need of more.

Air escapes you quicker than water in a broken dam, and you find yourself growing light-headed, pulling away for breath despite Wonwoo's grumbling.

When you draw back for the third time, he's beyond frustrated, groaning as his lips chase yours.

"get back here." he seethes, hands gripping the flesh of your waist, "right. fucking. now"

Your body, unfortunately, is slow to respond.

Wonwoo curses under his breath before flipping you over, arms straining as he lays you down as gently as he can.

You yelp, clutching onto his biceps like your very own safety belt, and your eyes widen at how easily he moves you.

"what are y-"

"can't have you running away," he smirks, tongue running along his lower lip.

Balancing his weight on one arm while bringing your hand to touch the other, Wonwoo repeats himself-

"if you want to stop, tell me. if that isn't possible-"

"tap twice, got it" you interrupt hastily, impatient as ever. He smiles fondly at you, a soft huff of laughter spilling past his lips.

"that's my girl,"

Your nails run over a thick vein jutting out from under his skin, and he swallows thickly, Adam's apple dipping low into his throat.

"you're really fucking distracting, y'know that?" he tuts, grabbing your hand and pinning it up above your head.

Before you can respond, Wonwoo captures your lips in a sloppy kiss, shoving his tongue past your lips, and exploring the expanse of your mouth fervently as if he's trying to memorize the way you feel, the way you taste.

The hand on your wrist loosens its grip and Wonwoo runs his fingers down the inside of your arm- ghosting a feathery touch over the sensitive skin.

"Won-" you whimper into his mouth, desperate for air, but he doubles down, pushing his lips closer to yours. Your helpless, muffled whines fill his ears and he can't help but grin against your lips.

'you make the prettiest sounds,'

Finally showing mercy, Wonwoo lets you breathe, moving from your lips to your chest, kissing his way down to your soaked panties.

"made a mess of these-" You can practically hear the smirk in his voice and you want nothing more than to smack it off, but you know he's right.

"you'll clean me up though, won't you?"

Silence.

Wonwoo sucks in a deep, composing inhale. His eyes meet yours, and your breath hitches. There's a deep, dark desire, an untameable lust behind the browns of his eyes, one that sends a shiver down your spine.

His fingers hook into your panties, tugging them off firmly, and his jaw clenches at the sight of your bare cunt.

"fuck-"

As if under a spell, Wonwoo finds himself drawn to you, placing his lips to your sex. He sticks a kiss to your slit before running his tongue along your folds and you know you're done for when your legs begin to twitch.

"oh please-" you whimper, hips bucking up into his tongue, and his lips twitch up. He brings his tongue to your hole, prodding it inside you, flicking in and out as his hand splays over your lower belly, thumbing your puffy clit.

Your jaw falls slack, hanging open, and your head lolls over to the side in pure ecstasy.

Wonwoo moves inside you with ease, pressing into every spot you need, rubbing lazy circles into your sensitive nerves. A choked moan claws its way up your throat, flooding the room, and Wonwoo knows he's doing something right.

All those nights studying you, the way you touched yourself, the things you seemed to like- they paid off in the end.

Your breathing grows unsteady and rapid, and he moves faster, pushes deeper into you, coaxing your orgasm out of you.

"f-fu- Wonnie m'gon-" you stutter, breathlessly, and he hums an affirmation, his voice sending waves reverberating through your nerves. The added stimulation of his voice, buzzing through you, is just enough to send you over the edge, and you cum on his tongue, back arching off the bed.

Unable to control the sounds escaping you, you're a whimpering, moaning jumble of nerves.

"that's it, baby-" he soothes, easing his tongue over your cunt, lapping up the remnants of arousal as you shudder uncontrollably. "taste so fuckin' good,"

Wonwoo kisses up your torso, settling on his knees to take his clothes off.

The white tank goes first, revealing his chiseled upper body, and your jaw drops. He looks unreal. The sweatpants are next, leaving him in a pair of fitted black boxers that cling to the width of his thighs and do little to hide his size.

"you're still okay with this?" he asks one last time, fingers halting at his boxers.

Stunned by the view, you nod dumbly, lips still parted in surprise.

"baby- I need wor-"

"yes! yes- yes I'm o-okay with this" you blurt out, swallowing the lump in your throat.

"do you hav-"

"I'm on the pill" The boxers are shucked off.

Oh my God.

The mattress dips under his weight, dimples forming under his knees and elbows as he hovers over you. Wonwoo places a chaste kiss to your forehead, aligning himself with your entrance before easing into you.

"you-you're so big-" you breathe, feeling the wind knocked out of your lungs. "Wonnie- oh my god"

Your eyes widen, brows knitting together as he pushes further and further, until he bottoms out inside you.

"shi-shit that's it- takin' me so good-" he hisses, clenching his teeth.

The girth of his cock has your walls stretching wide, trying desperately to accommodate him, and your eyes roll back. Wonwoo finds himself in a bit of a dilemma, unable to figure out whether to keep his eyes on your face, contorting in undeniable pleasure, or on your cunt being stuffed full by his cock.

With each thrust of his hips, you feel him move further, reaching deeper inside you until his tip nudges your cervix, coaxing out strangled moans on your part. The thick, pulsating vein running along the underside of his cock drags against your walls, and you feel him grow inside you- getting even bigger than before.

"W-onnie-" you mewl, words cut off by sharp gasps every time he slams back into you. "too big oh my g-"

"shh, you're takin' me so good doll, doin' so fucking good for me-" His voice is tainted with effort, each consonant ringing sharp and breathy as his lips ghost over yours.

Every fiber in your body buzzes with electricity, sweat glistens off of you like gold- you're on top of the world right now. The pleasure you feel in this moment is simply unparalleled. Nobody has, or ever will, come close.

Wonwoo's motions pick up speed, as he hooks his arm under your thigh, pulling it over his back- angling himself deeper into you, reaching spots you don't even know exist.

The first thrust with this newfound angle has both of your lips parting, breathing out shaky "oh"s against each other. Tears well in your eyes and you shake your head, breathing ragged and fast.

Wonwoo lets out a huff, smirking like he isn't gasping for breath the same way your are-

"that's it- I know you're close baby"

His hand leaves your thigh, rubbing zig-zag patterns into your clit, just enough to steal that orgasm out of you. The calloused pads of his fingers show no mercy, pressing directly on your nerves, and your hole spasms around him. You're certain you can feel your heartbeat where his finger presses, you can feel his too with the way his cock throbs inside you.

"so goddamn tight-" Wonwoo seethes, now feeling his own high approaching. He continues his motions on your clit, rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves from left to right, until you finally give in with a sob.

"m'cumming oh fuc- oh fuck"

The muscles of your thighs tense momentarily, cunt clenching down hard around his cock, before you let go completely. A warm, prickly relaxation washes over you, and Wonwoo grunts, releasing himself inside you.

His thrusts slow to a halt, and he lets out an airy laugh, in disbelief. He stares down at your disheveled frame- flushed, sweaty skin, blown pupils, hair tangled up around your head.

"you're beautiful," he breathes, unable to hold his tongue, and you giggle, turning away bashfully.

Wonwoo tilts your chin back, pulling you to face him-

"I really like you, y/n,"

You smile, eyes shimmering up at him. "I like you more"

There's a brief pause as you gaze into each other's eyes, before you realise something.

"wait- how'd you know wh-"

"sixth sense" he grins, eyes carrying just a touch of madness. "I know everything."

#seventeen #seventeen smut #svt smut #smut #anon ask #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut #yandere wonwoo #stalker wonwoo #send help #seventeen wonu

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velvetvexations · 5 months ago

Note

I'm probably beating a dead horse but the thing that really bothers me about the idea that "women can wear pants but men can't wear dresses" is that it's literally not true in multiple parts of the US! I grew up in a household where I was forced to wear dresses, forced to keep my hair long, my parents even had a problem with me wearing mostly black and publicly cried tears of joy in a dressbarn when I tried on a floral pink top.

there were also strict gender roles in the household! my brother and male cousins got to watch tv or play while I and my female cousins had to help prepare and clean up after meals. at family gatherings i was told explicitly that "little girls should be seen and not heard". my older brother's only chore was taking out the trash whereas I was expected to parent my little sister, keep the kitchen, living room, my room, and my little sister's room clean, make dinner when my mother couldn't, help with laundry, and when my mother worked overnight shifts I was responsible for getting my older brother, father, and younger sister up in the morning, get my sister dressed, pack her lunch, and get her on the bus in time- all while being expected to excel in school. the division of labor is stark and defying it is a form of gender nonconformity! I got physically punished and socially ostracized for questioning this dynamic or resisting my "feminine duties"! I was also constantly pressured to have children despite adamantly saying for years I didn't want any! not wanting to be a mother is a huge form of gender nonconformity! also, while pants generally might be degendered, other masculine attire very much isn't. for school events there was a gendered dress code (dances, graduation, awards ceremonies) and not abiding by the dress code would incur punishments up to detention or not walking for graduation. in the area i grew up in you get disgusted looks (and sometimes verbally harassed or hatecrimed) for having a masculine style haircut, wearing a masculine cut suit, wearing men's dress shoes, wearing masculine streetwear styles, etc. Masculine gender presentation is NOT JUST PANTS and IS PUNISHED in women and trans people who were AFAB Not everywhere is a progressive haven where childfree women with buzzcuts that wear men's clothing face no backlash, discrimination, or harassment

Your parents sound like such fucking abominable people and it bothers me so much that people like that still exist in this world.

I'm sorry for what you went through growing up, anon, and I'm glad you're out of that situation now. <3

#transandro phobia

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beellette · 2 years ago

Photo

Laundry - Eclectic Laundry Room Dedicated laundry room - mid-sized eclectic single-wall dedicated laundry room idea with a drop-in sink, flat-panel cabinets, white cabinets, wood countertops, multicolored walls and a side-by-side washer/dryer

#dedicated laundry room #floral wallpaper #simple home staging #laundry room wallpaper #stainless steel fixtures

0 notes

p0orbaby · 16 days ago

Text

Dancing in the Dark

summary: a tactics coach and a vice captain walk into a bar… have a not so secret relationship

warnings: mentions of sex but nothing graphic

a/n: i asked for requests and someone sent me this gem

word count: 3.1k

Leah texts you at exactly 12:02 a.m., a time she insists is “late enough to avoid suspicion but early enough that we’re not knackered in the morning.” The precision of it is very Leah—practical, calculated, with just the faintest whisper of rebellion. It’s always the same text—Room 308—as if she’s writing it for a stranger who might need the address for their sat nav. She never adds punctuation. You think that’s intentional, a way of keeping it casual, devoid of any intimacy that could be misconstrued.

You’ve stopped bothering to reply. It’s not that you don’t want to see her—want isn’t the word for what you feel when you see her name flash on your screen, but it’s close enough. It’s that typing on my way feels excessive when the answer’s already obvious. She knows you’ll come. You know she knows. And there’s something about that silent agreement that feels like the only part of this whole arrangement that makes sense.

The desk lamp casts a faint yellow glow across the room as you pack up. Your laptop goes into the bag first, followed by the notepad you’ve been using to scribble ideas for tomorrow’s strategy meeting. You pause to carefully align its corner with the edge of the desk—a habit you’ve had since you were a child, though you’re not sure if it’s a quirk of personality or a learned behaviour from years of Catholic school and its draconian rules about neatness.

Your hoodie is next, slung over the back of the chair like it’s been waiting for this exact moment. It’s an old one from university, the logo cracked and peeling, the sleeves stretched from too many washes. It smells faintly of your laundry detergent—a scent marketed as “ocean breeze,” though you’ve always thought it smells more like cheap fabric softener and an overactive imagination. Nothing about it suggests the ocean, or even a breeze. It’s more akin to the air freshener in a Southend-on-Sea rental cottage, the kind with faded floral curtains and a broken kettle. You wonder, briefly, if Leah would find this thought amusing. Probably. She has a way of laughing at things that don’t seem funny until she does.

The hotel corridor is silent, save for the distant hum of a vending machine and the occasional creak of overused floorboards. You walk quickly, your trainers barely making a sound on the patterned carpet—a gaudy, swirling design in shades of burgundy and gold that seems to scream corporate retreat. You keep your eyes trained forward, as if avoiding eye contact with the carpet will somehow render you invisible to anyone who might happen to step out of their room.

You’ve mapped out every staff member’s room, memorised the most efficient route, and calculated the probability of running into someone based on their known habits. Karen from PR always goes to bed early, probably still jet-lagged from the US tour. The physio, Jamie, is a night owl, but he’s more likely to be glued to Netflix than wandering the halls. Leah finds this level of detail ridiculous.

“You’re acting like MI5 is going to raid the place,” she’d said once, sprawled on her bed in a tangle of limbs and laughter. Her hair was still damp from the shower, a faint halo of gold catching the light as she turned her head to look at you. “You’re allowed to have fun, you know”

She’d been peeling off your shirt as she said it, her fingers tracing lazy circles on your shoulder, her eyes glittering with amusement. You wanted to argue, to tell her that fun is precisely what you’re having, in the only way you know how to have it: meticulously planned, risk-assessed, and executed with the precision of a military operation. But then her hands had moved lower, and the argument had dissolved into something else entirely. Something much harder to put into words.

Room 308. You knock twice—firm, precise knocks that betray none of the absurd nervousness bubbling under the surface. The kind that makes your palms clammy and your chest feel like it’s trying to audition for a drum solo. The knocks are part of a ritual now, as familiar as tying your boots before a match or double-checking the pitch markings. Three sharp raps, never four, because three would seem impatient, and two would feel too casual, as though you’re dropping by to borrow sugar or ask for her Netflix password.

The door opens almost instantly, as if she’s been standing on the other side, waiting for you. Leah’s dressed in one of those oversized T-shirts she always wears off the pitch, the kind that blur the line between effortless and lazy. This one is black, or it might have been once, but it’s faded now, the fabric soft and worn thin at the seams. The logo across the chest is barely legible—AC__ME—as though it’s been through the wash one too many times. You can’t tell if it’s a nod to Arsenal, a subtle homage to Wile E. Coyote’s endless misfortunes, or one of those niche designer brands that only appear on people with a six-figure salary and a curated Instagram aesthetic. It’s probably the latter. Leah strikes you as the kind of person who’d know what Vetements is and pretend she doesn’t care about it while secretly owning three pieces.

“Hey,” she says, stepping aside to let you in. Her voice has this easy warmth to it, like she’s just woken up from the kind of nap that makes you forget what year it is. There’s a hint of amusement in her tone, the faint lilt of someone who’s just thought of something funny but isn’t planning to share it with the group. You’ve always liked that about her—how she can hold a joke in her mouth like a secret, like it’s something she doesn’t owe to anyone else.

“Hi,” you reply, because what else is there to say? Hello feels too formal, like you’ve shown up for a job interview, and anything else—anything softer, more intimate—feels dangerous. Like stepping too close to the edge of a cliff just to see how far you can lean before gravity kicks in.

Her room is a mirror image of yours, down to the garish burgundy carpet and beige curtains that don’t quite close properly. It’s a symphony of stereotypical hotel design, where the furniture all looks like it’s been bolted down as a precaution against theft. But there’s something different about hers, something distinctly Leah. It smells faintly of her perfume, a citrusy Chanel scent you’d once looked for in John Lewis out of curiosity. You’d sprayed it onto one of those paper tester strips, only to feel your lungs contract at the price tag. It smells like sunshine and sharp edges, and now it’s permanently tangled up in your memory of her.

The bed is unmade, the covers thrown haphazardly across the mattress like they’ve been caught mid-escape. One pillow teeters on the edge, a casualty of her apparent inability to sleep neatly. There’s a half-empty bottle of water on the nightstand, its label peeling from condensation. A pair of socks—crew-length, white with a small Nike tick—lie abandoned on the floor near the foot of the bed, one inside out. The room is messy in a way that surprises you. Leah, who is precise and meticulous on the pitch, leaves her personal space in a state of mild chaos. And for some reason, it makes you smile. It’s humanising, like finding out that superheroes still get toothpaste on their shirts.

You step inside, careful not to trip over her trainers—Adidas Sambas in a muted beige tone, scuffed at the edges but somehow still immaculate in their coolness. The door clicks shut behind you, the sound punctuating the silence like a full stop. You turn to face her, and she’s leaning against the dresser now, her hands resting in the pockets of her shorts. She’s watching you, her eyes half-lidded and impossibly blue, the kind of blue that makes you think of open skies and lost afternoons.

“What?” you ask, because the weight of her gaze always makes you self-conscious, like you’ve walked into a room wearing mismatched socks.

“Nothing,” she says, her mouth curving into a smirk. “You just look…” She pauses, letting the sentence hang in the air like an unfinished melody.

“What?” you repeat, a little sharper this time, though you’re smiling too.

“Like you’re trying not to smile,” she finishes, pushing off the dresser and moving closer.

And maybe you are. Maybe you’re trying not to give away how much you like this—the quiet intimacy of it, the way she looks at you like you’re the only person in the world who knows what this feels like. Maybe you’re trying not to admit how much you want to reach out and touch her, to close the space between you with a single step. But you don’t. Not yet.

The sex is unhurried, languid. Leah moves with the same precision she does on the pitch, her hands mapping the curve of your waist, the line of your jaw, like she’s planning her next move three steps in advance. It’s the same deliberation you’ve seen in her during matches—the way she reads the game like it’s written in a language only she understands. But this isn’t a match. There are no spectators, no whistles, no rules, just her and you and the slow, deliberate way she’s undoing you, piece by piece.

Her kisses are deep, focused. They land with intent, the kind that makes you forget your own name, let alone the fragile, tenuous boundaries of this arrangement. Her mouth lingers on yours, then moves to your neck, her lips brushing just beneath your ear. She doesn’t bite, not yet, but you can feel her teeth graze your skin, an unspoken promise that leaves you gasping, your fingers curling into the rough fabric of the hotel sheets.

Her fingertips press into your skin—not hard enough to hurt but just firm enough to leave the ghost of her touch behind, as though she’s marking her territory. They trace the length of your back, down your spine, to your hips. Her thumbs skim over the waistband of your joggers before she tugs them down with a kind of casual confidence that feels maddeningly unfair. She knows exactly what she’s doing. She always does.

“You’re so quiet,” she murmurs, her voice low, teasing. She presses a kiss to your collarbone, her hands slipping beneath your shirt to push it up, her palms warm against your ribs. “That’s not like you”

“I’m—” You try to respond, but her mouth finds a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, and the words catch in your throat.

“Exactly,” she says, her voice smug as she moves lower, her lips trailing down your chest, your stomach, her pace agonisingly slow. She hooks her fingers under the waistband of your underwear, and you lift your hips instinctively, barely registering the soft laugh she lets out, the sound dark and smooth like melted chocolate.

There’s no rush. Leah’s always like this—methodical, unhurried. She knows how to take her time, how to keep you teetering on the edge until your body feels like it’s no longer your own. She kisses her way back up, pausing to nip at your jaw, your shoulder, the place where your pulse beats just beneath your skin. Her hand slips between your thighs, her touch deliberate, controlled. And you’re gone.

It’s like a tidal wave, slow to build but devastating when it crashes over you. You’re not sure when you start begging—if it even counts as begging, the broken sounds spilling from your lips without your consent—but Leah doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, she seems pleased, her smirk pressing against the hollow of your throat as she mutters something you’re too far gone to catch.

At some point, she presses her forehead to yours, her breath coming in short, uneven bursts. She murmurs something—low, unintelligible, a slurred mix of swear words and your name. Or maybe it’s not your name. Maybe it’s a prayer. Maybe it’s both. You don’t ask her to repeat it. You’re too busy trying to remember how to breathe, your hands clutching at her back, pulling her closer like you can merge into her, like you can stop time if you just hold on tightly enough.

By the time you collapse onto the mattress, tangled in the hotel’s suspiciously rough sheets, you’re vaguely aware of how loud you’ve been. The walls are thin. The kind of thing where you can hear your neighbour’s TV murmuring away or the occasional flush of a toilet. It’s almost comedic, really, the way you’d tried so hard to avoid being seen earlier, only to make it painfully obvious now. You half expect a knock on the door, some irate teammate demanding silence.

Leah doesn’t seem to care. Of course she doesn’t. She lies beside you, her face flushed, her hair falling loose from the ponytail she’d barely tried to secure. She’s smirking, the way she always does after these nights, like she’s just scored the winning goal and nobody else on the team noticed. Her arm brushes against yours as she stretches out, her skin warm and damp, her breathing slow and even.

The next morning, you arrive at breakfast twenty minutes late, a record even for you. You’ve spent the better part of that time in front of the mirror, tilting your head at impossible angles to assess the carnage Leah left on your neck. Hickeys, in various stages of bruise-like blossoming, dot your skin like a battlefield casualty report. You try concealer—two layers, then three—but it only makes you look like you’ve dipped your neck in cake batter. After an extensive wardrobe evaluation, you settle on a jumper with a collar just high enough to obscure the worst of it, but not so high that it screams I’ve made several poor life choices and am now concealing the evidence.

You enter the dining area cautiously, your eyes scanning for witnesses like you’re in the opening sequence of Casino Royale. The room is loud with the sound of clinking cutlery, chairs scraping against linoleum, and conversations overlapping in a way that is both chaotic and oddly comforting. You spot Katie McCabe first, standing by the buffet with a bowl of cereal that is more milk than anything resembling a solid. Her spoon hovers mid-air as she glances at you, then swivels her head in Leah’s direction, who is seated at a corner table, scrolling through her phone like she has never made a suspicious noise in her life.

Katie’s eyes narrow, and her mouth stretches into a grin so wicked it should be trademarked. She sets her cereal down and makes a beeline for you, walking with the kind of determination that belongs exclusively to people with too much time on their hands and absolutely no regard for personal boundaries.

“Well, well,” she says, stepping closer. Her eyes dart to your neck, then back up to your face. “Someone had a busy night.”

You freeze. Instinctively, your hand twitches toward the collar of your jumper, but you stop yourself. Guilty behaviour. Act normal. Be cool. You shrug in what you hope is a convincing display of nonchalance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Katie tilts her head, her grin widening. “Oh, don’t play dumb,” she says, gesturing vaguely toward your neck. “What’s that, then? Tactical bruising? Working on a new game plan?”

“I slipped in the shower,” you deadpan. It’s a lie so bad it physically hurts to say, but the alternative is giving Katie McCabe ammunition, and you’d rather die than give her the satisfaction.

She snorts. “Jesus, you’ve got to at least try with these excuses”

You glare at her, but it’s useless. Katie is like a shark in open water—she can smell blood, and she’s circling. She follows you to the table, sliding into the chair next to yours without so much as an invitation. Her cereal sloshes precariously in her bowl, milk dripping onto the edge of the table. She doesn’t notice. Or doesn’t care.

Leah, of course, is completely unbothered. She’s leaned back in her chair, scrolling through her phone like she’s reading the football section of The Guardian and not actively trying to avoid eye contact with you. Her hair is still slightly damp from her morning shower, and she’s wearing a hoodie that looks suspiciously like yours. Katie clocks the hoodie immediately and raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. Not yet.

“Just to clarify,” Katie says, her voice loud enough to carry to the next table, “are we calling this a team-building exercise or…?”

Leah doesn’t even flinch. Without looking up from her phone, she says, “Mind your business, McCabe”

Katie lets out a delighted laugh, stealing a slice of toast from your plate like she’s earned it. “Oh, it is my business,” she says, buttering the toast with an enthusiasm that borders on offensive. “You lot kept me up all night. Thought someone was being murdered in the next room. Turns out it was just—”

“Katie,” you interrupt, your voice sharp enough to cut through her sentence. Your face is burning, your ears hot enough to fry an egg on.

Katie leans back in her chair, utterly unrepentant. “Relax,” she says, taking a bite of the toast she stole. “Your secret’s safe with me. For now”

She winks at you, a gesture so insufferable you consider lobbing a teaspoon at her head. Instead, you glance at Leah, whose lips are twitching at the edges, betraying the smirk she’s desperately trying to suppress.

You shoot her a glare that you hope translates to I will kill you later, but she only raises an eyebrow, as if to say go ahead, make my day.

Katie’s still watching you, her grin as infuriating as ever. “You’re lucky it was me who heard you,” she says, her tone dripping with mock sincerity. “Imagine if it had been Beth. She’d have the whole squad doing impressions by now”

Leah finally looks up from her phone, her expression cool, but there’s a dangerous glint in her eye. “You done?”

Katie holds up her hands in mock surrender, her grin never faltering. “I’m just saying. Maybe next time, try keeping it down. Or don’t. Makes for great entertainment”

You slump in your chair, burying your face in your hands. You can feel Leah’s gaze on you, and when you finally peek through your fingers, she’s smiling. Not smirking, not teasing, but actually smiling, like this is the most fun she’s had in weeks.

You make a mental note to kill her later. Or maybe kiss her. You haven’t decided yet.

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #awfc #awfc x reader #engwnt #engwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

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mariasont · 7 months ago

Text

Laundry Day - A.H

a/n: 1000 words for 1000 followers!!!!!!!!! i am in complete disbelief honestly, you all are so amazing and im so thankful for each and every one of you <3

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x nanny!reader

summary: hotch begins to notice a difference in the way his clothes smell, wonder why?

wc: 1k

Hotch had been wrestling with the unsettling notion that he might be ill, or worse he had a brain tumor, manifesting through phantom smells. Whatever it was, it had been driving him crazy because the persistent aroma was undeniably yours, his nanny. As much as he didn't to admit it, this would usually be a welcome scent, soft and florally, like he had just stepped into a flower field.

Today, however, the scent was nothing short of an irritant. Every fleeting whiff had him jerking his head up, expecting to see you standing in the doorway of his office. But you were never there, of course, which only intensified the frustration gnawing at him.

There it was again, and despite his better judgement, his gaze darted to the door, unfortunately only to find Morgan casually propped against the frame.

"Hey, boss, got a minute?"

The scent had momentarily clouded his focus, but he quickly regained his bearings and closed the file, giving a firm nod. "What's up?"

"We've got a lead on the case in Richmond," Morgan started, handing over a document. "Local PD spotted a vehicle matching the description of our unsub's."

Hotch took the file, fingers thoughtfully brushing his chin as he scanned the pages. Morgan stepped closer, his nose giving a slight twitch before he took a seat in front of the desk.

"You know, Hotch, I gotta ask," Morgan prodded, a sly smile spreading across his face in a way that made Hotch uneasy. Morgan wasn't known for his filtered comments. "You got a girl or something? It smells way too good in here for just paperwork."

Point in case.

Hotch's eyes flickered up from the papers. "What? No, I--"

"Come on, man," Morgan chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. "Don't play coy with me. Whoever she is, she's got good taste. I think Savannah uses the same perfume."

Hotch clamped the file closed, his mind racing faster than he could keep up with. So for one, it wasn't just in his head which was a good thing. He could rule out a brain tumor. But on the other hand that leaves the question of why the hell he smells like his nanny?

It was all he could focus on all day, paralyzing his work capabilities, reducing him to a state of mere motion without meaning.

It wasn't until the office AC malfunctioned, and he found himself stripping off his jacket, did he discover the source of the floral scent. His own jacket. He inhaled it cautiously, feeling slightly perverted before quickly stowing it away in a drawer, slamming it shut to dispel the borderline inappropriate thoughts.

When he finally arrived home, jacket in hand, he headed straight towards the sound of your humming. Normally, he'd make his rounds--first to Jack's room, who was usually napping at this time, then to the kitchen for his nightly scotch, and finally to his home office. But today was different.

The jacket hung loosely over his forearm, briefcase now abandoned at the door as he made his way towards the sound of your voice. It was the damn scent that greeted him first, drifting from the laundry room, and then, finally, the sight of you.

But what caught his attention, besides you and your slightly too short skirt, was the undeniable evidence of you misting his clothes with your perfume.

He said your name, almost in a scolding way, which he quickly realized his mistake when you whirled around, gasping as the bottle slipped from your fingers, shattering on the tile floor.

"Don't move," Hotch commanded, heart racing as he watched the glass scattered around your bare feet.

He moved towards you, stepping over the glass, carefully scooping you in his arms and setting you safely on the counter. He then knelt down, gathering the broken pieces.

"Mr. Hotchner, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're trying to sweep me off my feet." Your legs were dangling from the counter, swinging back and forth. He gave you a deadpan look, his eyebrow raised every so slightly. "You're no fun."

You pouted, attempting to slide off the counter, but his hand was on your ankle in an instant.

"Stay put," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. He sighed, collecting the last of the glass and tossing it before standing up straight. "Also, is there a particular reason my suits now double as air fresheners?"

"Mr. Hotchner, you wound me with your accusations," you said, hand over your heart, crossing your legs in a criss-cross apple sauce fashion.

You were going to be the death of him.

Hotch cleared his throat, willing his gaze not to dip in between your legs. "You're wearing a skirt."

"Oh whoops," you giggled, fixing your position.

"And for the record, I actually didn't accuse you, but your defensiveness and the fact that I caught you red handed tells me everything I need to know." He took a step towards you. "Care to explain?"

"I...um, wanted to make sure you're always fresh?"

"And you chose your own perfume for that?"

"How do you know it's mine?"

With a step that erased any remaining space between you, Hotch bent slightly, his nose near your collarbone. "It's hard to miss."

He took a step back, giving you room to breathe.

"I just wanted to make sure any girls on the street didn't get the wrong idea," you said, the corners of your mouth turning up.

Hotch let out a chuckle. "You do realize you're my nanny not my wife, correct?"

"Tomato, tomahto."

"Careful."

You swung your legs off the counter, standing up straight. "Any chance to buy me another perfume bottle? It was kind of expensive, and well, you know my salary..."

"No." It wasn't as firm as he wanted it to be and it only took him a second to give in, this happened a lot when it came to you, handing over his credit card. "Fine."

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath

#aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem reader #aaron hotchner x nanny!reader #aaron hotchner x nanny reader

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kazvha · 11 months ago

Text

WHAT THE GENSHIN BOYS SMELL LIKE

Including: Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Freminet, Gaming, Gorou, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Kaveh, Kazuha, Lyney, Neuvillette, Tartaglia, Thoma, Tighnari, Venti, Wanderer, Wriothesley, Xiao, Zhongli

Notes: These are just personal headcanons, don't take these too seriously🥴 Enjoy!!💛

ALBEDO

• I think he smells like nothing most of the time

• You only feel cold air when you stand next to him because he's in Dragonspine a lot

• Subtle notes of charcoal which he uses as an art tool or of strong chemicals cling onto him on some days

ALHAITHAM

• I also don't think he smells like anything on most days, maybe only like the fresh clothes he's wearing

• Though he has a faint scent of coconut to him. It could be the shampoo or the skin care products he's using, but it's mostly because of his body lotion

AYATO

• His hair always smells like the shampoo he uses. So sugary and sweet, like vanilla cake or bubblegum

• But for his body and clothes he uses expensive clean and powdery fragrances

• Quite the combo, I must say💀 Strange, just like his taste in food

BAIZHU

• Smells like expensive bar soap. A mix of aloe vera and ginger

• Also smells kinda sour because of the herbs he works with

CYNO

• Smells like pure white musk which smells great

• But it can be quite intense on some days when he decides to go overboard with his sprays

• He's sweating at the end of the day but the smell is subtle

DAINSLEIF

• He smells like the environment he was in. Often it's nature. Every now and then he smells like the rain too

• Also smells kinda dusty, like that basement smell you know? People either love it or hate it.

DILUC

• He smells warm and homely. Notes of cedar, sandalwood, or cinnamon

• But you'd have to stand really close to him to smell anything, his coat kinda dulls the scent

• Of course, he always smells like the vineyard and grapes during the harvest

FREMINET

• Smells fresh like bar soap. It's almost unnoticeable. It has a light scent of baby powder

• His clothes smell like chamomile because of the fabric softener he uses

GAMING

• This fella smells like cocoa butter because he uses it as body lotion

• I can also imagine that he carries an aroma of caramel/burnt sugar

• Bro eats so much dim sum, he often smells like the food he ate

GOROU

• I don't think he has a particular scent

• But his home/room smells like cinnamon, cloves, and oranges. The scent kinda rubs off on him

HEIZOU

• He wears body mists with floral notes. His favorites are maybe roses, lavender, or honeysuckle

• He likes to keep a little lavender sachet in his closet, so his clothes also smell like flowers

ITTO

• Idk, he probably smells like someone who's outside a lot. He has that outside smell, you know what I mean?

• He probably wears a musky fragrance, but it usually mixes with his sweat

KAEYA

• My bro is using all sorts of Arabian oils and fragrances. He has some with the notes of oud, musk, amber, and much more. Kaeya has a whole collection

• He smells divine and he knows it because people compliment him every day

• But like Venti, he drinks a lot, so his scent mixes with the wine odor

KAVEH

• Kaveh likes to wear fruity, tropical fragrances because he's always craving chilled fruits, especially on days that are hotter than usual.

• They also remind him of the days on which he sat in front of his house with his parents and ate watermelons

• Also has an alcohol odor sometimes like his fellas in Mondstadt

KAZUHA

• He uses a fabric softener because he likes his clothes to be extra comfortable. That's why he often smells like fresh laundry

• Because he spends a lot of his free time in nature, he probably also smells like grass or firewood

LYNEY

• Berries. He always smells like berries.

• He won't tell you what his secret is

• You guess every product he uses has the scent of berries. His bodywash, his shampoo, his body lotion, his deodorant, his fabric softener, the candle in his room, his lip balm, etc. Even his toothpaste...

NEUVILLETTE

• This sir smells like the ocean. Like the sea breeze. Like water itself.

• Yeah, he likes expensive-smelling aquatic colognes. Though occasionally he also uses citrusy perfumes

TARTAGLIA

• Something tells me that he either smells like expensive aquatic fragrances

• Or he smells like an old lady mixed with the aroma of nature, grass, firewood, animals, etc.

THOMA

• He probably likes to wear sweet scents like tonka bean and honey

• Or even perfumes with fruity notes like peach or pear

TIGHNARI

• You can't tell me this guy doesn't smell like herbs, plants, flowers and stuff

• Idk, when I think of him I think of eucalyptus

VENTI

• He would smell quite fresh and idk, breezy?

• Like a fresh breath of air in spring if you know what I mean

• But since he's drunk most of the time the overbearing odor of wine sticks to him

WANDERER

• Nahida gifted him a citrus perfume and he has been using it ever since

• He likes bitter smells too, so he bought himself bitter perfumes with bergamot, bitter orange, and grapefruit notes

WRIOTHESLEY

• I think he wears a perfume which has woody, earthy notes. Sometimes he has a fresh minty smell to him too

• When he fights the scents obviously mix with his sweat

• I also think a light scent of motor oil sticks to him

XIAO

• Most of the days he smells literally like nothing, or sweat. It's not overbearing though

• But there are some days on which he smells super sweet, like vanilla, cotton candy, a baked treat or something

• It's either because he ate those things or because he has body sprays with these scents. He won't tell you

ZHONGLI

• If you're standing close to him, you'll smell his pleasant cologne scent

• It could be musky or woody, but he usually wears floral scents like osmanthus

• His scent mixes with the aroma of tea leaves or herbs which he gets from wandering in the market and drinking tea the whole day

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 5 months ago

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Bucky and R are coming back from a long vacation, R gifting him cheesy, mass-produced trinkets with his name on them. Bucky feels bad that he didn’t get her anything, but R tells him that he did— she’s pregnant.

Best Present Of All » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Wife/Pregnant!Reader

Summary: Bucky thinks he didn’t get you anything when you two when on vacation, but little does he know that he got you the best present of all.

Warnings: Fluff, language, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creator. My apologies, I couldn’t find the blog who made this gif.

“It feels good to be home.” Bucky sighs, walking in yours and his apartment. “Don’t you think?” He asks.

“Yes, but I enjoyed vacation with you.” You say, standing on your tippy toes to kiss his lips.

You and Bucky just got home from a month long vacation. You and Bucky planned it months ago. Anyway, you two are happy to be home.

“I’m gonna unpack and put our dirty clothes in the washer and I’m gonna go through the trinkets I got.” You say, giving him a kiss on his stubbly cheek.

“Sounds good to me.” He says, giving you a small smile.

Bucky’s smile slowly faded away as you walked to the laundry room with yours and his dirty clothes. He went to the living room and sat down on the couch, slouching back. He turned the TV on and surfed through the channels. He couldn’t find anything so he just put on Netflix and put your favorite series on. He put the remote back on the coffee table and leaned back on the couch, leaning his head against the back of the couch. He closed his eyes briefly till you came in the living room.

“Are you tired, baby?” You asked.

“No.” Bucky opened his eyes and sat up. “I was just waiting for my gorgeous wife.” He says cheekily.

You put a few different bags on the coffee table and sat down next to your husband. You grabbed the first bag and pulled the cute floral sundress out of it you found at a cute little boutique.

“What do you think of this?” You asked for Bucky’s opinion, holding it against the front of your body.

“You already asked me what I thought of if when you bought it, doll.” He says.

“I know. I just want to hear you say it again.” You say.

“I think…” Bucky leans towards you. “You’re going to look drop dead gorgeous in it.” He says, kissing your lips.

You smiled against his lips and put the sundress down. The second bag was from a a little store that had keychains and lanyards with names on it. You bought Bucky a few of them in different colors.

“I got these for you.” You tell him, handing him the small bag.

Bucky took the bag from you and looked inside of it before taking one of the keychains out of it.

“James…” He reads out loud. “It has my name on it.” He looks back in the bag. “All of these have my name on them.” He says, turning his attention to you.

“I know. I thought they were cute and thought you might like them.” You say, kissing his cheek.

As you continued to go through the bags of trinkets you bought for him and some for you, Bucky quickly realized that he didn’t buy you anything and immediately felt bad.

“I found this at the-” You stopped mid sentence when you seen the sad look on his face. “What’s wrong, baby?” You asked with concern in your voice.

“You got me all of these nice trinkets and I didn’t get you anything.” He says, feeling bad.

“Oh, baby…” You caressed his cheek, rubbing your thumb against his stubble. “You did get me something.” You softly say, almost whispering.

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, trying to figure out what he got you.

“I’m pregnant.” You tell him with a big smile on your face.

Bucky’s eyes went wide and his jaw dropped. You have never seen Bucky this speechless.

“I- we’re having a baby?” He asks speechlessly.

“Yes.” You answered, nodding your head yes.

A squeak left your lips when Bucky tackled you against the couch, hugging you tightly.

“We’re having a baby!” He says with excitement in his voice.

“We’re having a baby!” You confirmed.

Bucky then kissed you with so much passion that it took your breath away.

“When did you find out?” He asks.

“The day before we left for vacation.” You answered.

“The day before we- doll, that was almost a month ago.” He sat up on his forearms so he wasn’t crushing you. “Why didn’t you tell me when you found?” He asks.

“I wanted to surprise you.” You say.

“Truth me, I’m more than surprised.” He says.

Bucky leaned down and kissed you again.

“Thank you for giving me the best present I could ever ask for.” You say against his lips.

“You don’t have to thank me, doll face.” Bucky whispers. “It’s takes two people to make a baby. It’s my present too.” He says.

“I love you so much, baby.” You say, kissing his lips.

“I love you too, doll.” He kisses you back and moves your shirt up to kiss your soon to be baby bump. “We love you too, little soldier.” He says softly.

🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖

-Bucky’s Doll

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axxa-the-allikatt · 4 days ago

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I know I’ve posted this specifically for Chigiri before and this post is purely self-indulgent. I couldn’t get the image of certain other pritty boys when I reread the fic and I thought I’d let others imagine whoever they want in the situation :>

***

Imagine,

Your Gorgeous Roommate, who you first met after your previous roommate had nearly burnt his and your’s shared room and you’d been forced to move into the juniors’ rooms.

Your Gorgeous Roommate, who had introduced himself, assured you that he was not a female, and had given you a not so subtle once-over, before disappearing into his room.

Your Gorgeous Roommate, who you barely saw the first few days, but eventually started seeing more of, once you two had come into a sort of daily routine.

Your Gorgeous Roommate, who did the dishes and the laundry, while you were in charge of the cooking and cleaning.

Your Gorgeous Roommate, who you would catch yourself checking out, when you guys would order some takeout and he would giggle at some stupid romcom that he liked to watch while eating the food.

Your Gorgeous Roommate, who you did or did not have a thing for, asking you if you would like to go to a weekend party with him, not knowing you were a bit of a light weight.

Your Gorgeous Roommate, who soon enough finds out about it, when he finds you drunk not half way through the party and has to drag you into an uber, then drag you along the stairs until you reach your room.

Your Gorgeous Roommate, who you somehow manage to convince to do his skin care routine on, and rolls his eyes when you ask him if he’s too shy to do it.

Your Gorgeous Roommate, who drags you to his room and starts the routine, and blushes lightly when you point out that his hand is shaking slightly, but blames it on the drinks at the party, which you both knew he’d never had.

Your Gorgeous Roommate, who doesn’t put up much of a fight, despite his later denial, when you grab him by the hand that is applying some sort of moisturiser on your face, pressing it against his dressing table as you, still drunkenly, crash your lips on his.

Your Gorgeous Roommate, who turns a pretty shade of pink, forgetting all about the routine, when you slip a hand inside his shirt, pressing your palm against the smooth skin of his torso, as you leave soft bites from behind his ear to his shoulder.

Your Gorgeous Roommate, who almost kicks you when your touches stop, but realises with disbelief that you had fallen asleep in the middle of a makeout session.

Your Gorgeous Roommate, who is way too nervous to bring up the incident again, in case it was a drunk mistake on your part, and unintentionally avoids you then next two-three days.

Your Gorgeous Roommate, who wants to pretend that it was a silly mistake, when you corner him in the kitchen after dinner, apologising to him about that night, but finds himself admitting that it felt good.

Your Gorgeous Roommate, who almost clings onto you, as you swallow his nervous muttering with a very much sober kiss, pulling him up by his thighs and placing him on the counter.

Your Gorgeous Roommate, who looks so pretty, so delicate as so you press him down on the counter, lips again slotting against his neck, as you inhale the floral scent of his shampoo.

Your Gorgeous Roommate, who will never admit later that it was one of the best nights of his life, but his sweet moans and cries were enough proof for you.

Your Gorgeous Roommate, who pretends to think deeply when you ask him out the next day during breakfast but agrees quickly enough when you start rubbing his ankle with yours under the dining table.

Your Gorgeous Roommate, who is quite the high maintenance princess, and doesn’t hesitate to ask for what he wants, be it going out on cute dates or getting what he wants in bed every other day.

Your Gorgeous Roommate, who buys you your favourite snacks from the store down the road when you’re feeling tired or down after a long day at college, even without you asking for it; who turns out to be quite cuddly, especially during movie nights; who loves holding your hand when you guys go out; and who doesn’t hesitate letting everyone know who he belongs to now.

***

- Chigiri (obviously), Reo, Sanzu, Mitsuya, Baji, uhhhhhhh Rindou (idek why but yea), Suna, Kenma, Akaashi, Aventurine, Mu Qing (this drop dead gorgeous boy was mostly the one I imagined in this situation. Because I love him.) Xie Lian (San Lang, baby, don’t come at me), Shi Qingxuan, Shen Yuan/Qingqiu, there are a few more but I can’t remember for the life of me so TwT + whoever you’d like <3

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messylustt · 2 years ago

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pervy ethan smut pleaseeeee

this slowly started to become longer than i planned. i couldn't stop writing

floral panties — ethan landry + reader ( scream ) : you leave a trap for your pantie stealing fellow student

contents : perv ethan, pantie stealing, use of conditioner as lube, subby ethan, ethan's obsessed, use of 'dirty boy' as like a pet name ig, overstimulation, no actual p in v. wc 2.4k

Ethan didn’t know when it started but he found himself stealing your clothes. More specifically your panties.

You lived in the same dorm building, so every time you left your clothes by the communal washing machines, ethan couldn’t help but pocket some of your different coloured panties. He now had some lacy, some normal, and some with cute patterns.

It was shameful but Ethan grew addicted to wrapping them around his cock as he jerked himself off, muttering your name under his breath. He couldn’t jerk off normally anymore, he always had to have something of yours touching him.

Then one night, when you left the laundry, ethan spotted a left behind conditioner bottle, the one that made your hair smell like cherries. Without thinking he grabbed it, walked to his dorm, locked the door to his room, and began to use your conditioner as lube.

He stroked himself, the cherry scent making his eyes roll. He could imagine you on your knees in front of him. The cherry coming from your hair as you languidly stroked his cock. He orgasmed embarrassingly quickly at the new found fantasy.

Every time he saw you in the hallways of Blackmore, or in the dorm building, your cherry scent made his cheeks pinken.

The surprising thing was that you’d never actually met. You’d briefly acknowledged each other as a passing person, but no long conversations or a blooming friendship.

Ethan just always watched from afar, growing hotter when he’d catch your skirt hiking up in your seat. He remembers a pathetic moment when you had unintentionally been distracting him all class, and for some relief he palmed himself under the table.

You had reduced him to a horny teenager wanting to bust a nut the moment he sees you show a sliver of skin.

What Ethan didn’t realise was that you had noticed your gradually missing panties, and that one bottle of conditioner. You had always felt someones eyes on you whenever you would bend down to retrieve a pen you dropped.

You soon quickly linked up the eyes and stolen items to Ethan Landry. The boy who lived in your dorm building and took random classes with you. At first glance you’d say he appeared shy, at second you’d think he was kinda cute, and at third you’d finally notice the lust swirling in his eyes.

One night, when you were walking towards a washing machine, prepared with a basket, you heard distant steps far but close. You paused, quickly realising that it would be the brown haired boy.

You decided to leave a trap, just to see if he really was the one who brazenly stole your items. You placed your basket full of a mix of shirts, pants, skirts, and panties. You made sure to leave a pair at the top as you pretended to walk to the other exit of the room.

You hide behind a washing machine, watching as Ethan walked in. He didn’t have a basket full of clothes, so there was no need for him to be there, unless he liked to steal.

Ethan spots the new pair of lacy black panties on your pile of clothes. He edges closer, sparing a fleeting glance around before he grabs them, breathing heavy.

He goes to pocket them when he hears your melodious voice. Whipping his head up, his eyes widen as he watches you walk out from your hiding spot a raise to your brows.

“What are you going to do with those?” You ask, as you step closer.

Ethan is frozen, gulping down his want to hide. You’d caught him. He hadn’t thought this far. He’d thought he could get away with it. “Uh.” He stupidly splutters, not knowing what he can say. It was pretty obvious what he was going to do with them.

You edge closer as Ethan watches your every move. He notices the low cut singlet your wearing, and your sweatpants that hang low on your hips. A huge chunk of your stomach is on full display and Ethan’s eyes begin to feel heavy. Through his distracted state he hadn’t realised that you’d moved much closer.

You're inches from his face. He sucks in a breath when he caught your gaze. “Can I have them back?” You quietly ask. Ethan processes your words for a moment then realises that your talking about your panties. His fist had clenched around them. “Ethan?”

He chokes on air at the fact that you knew his name. You grab his wrist, taking the panties out, and throwing them into your basket. Ethan expected your expression to be mad, but he's confused and slightly intruiged at the fact that your just staring at him, your own intruige displayed across your features.

You were still extremely close and Ethan's mind quickly became a haze, becuase your hair smelt extra strong today. "I'm sorry." He manages to mutter out. He quickly looks away, embarassment filling him to the brim. But then you grab his chin, pulling his head back to face you.

He gulps. Feeling your fingers touching his face has added a new level of need that's making his stomach tighten. He can't look away from you, especially as a little smile forms on your lips. "Do you like me or something?" You ask, tilting your head in inspection of him.

"Uh..."

"You can be honest." Your voice is sickly sweet. It makes Ethan subconsiously step closer to you. Your chests are almost touching. Ethan licks his lips before answering in a small voice. "Yes. Yeah— I...do."

Your smile begins to widen. "Why didn't you talk to me?" Your tone is still soft and light, making a strain form in Ethan's pants.

Ethan refrains from grabbing you, lust weighing him heavy. "I don't know."

You leaned closer to whisper. "Because if you asked me out I probably would have said yes."

Ethan's eyes widen as you lean back. "You would?"

"I would have." You corrected. "But since your the thief, I don't know if I'd want to anymore." You were teasing him, because you quickly grew to like the desperate look he's displaying.

Ethan swiftly steps closer, your chests finally touching. Ethan shakes his head. "I'll give them all back. I won't steal again. I promise. I won't—" Ethan is rambling, as his chest heaves. God, he didn't want his one mistake in not having you to be his dirty actions and fantasies.

You chuckle at his almost pleading tone. You place your hand on his chest. "Stealing my panties?" You pretend to look annoyed. "That's extremely dirty."

Ethan is cursing himself for every time he used your panties to jerk off. "I didn't—“ Ethan is breathing hard. "I didn't mean to."

"Yes you did." You say, keeping him at a slight distance, with your hand on his chest. Even your small touches is making his cock throb.

"It was wrong, I just..."

"Just what?" A small smirk had edged your lips.

Ethan stares at your lips, wishing he could taste them. "I just wanted to feel some part of you." His tone his heavy and breathless.

"And you thought my panties would be the closest you could get?" You guess. "What about the conditioner?"

Ethan gulps. "I like how your hair smells." He whispers shamefully.

"My hair?" You begin to "absentmindedly" drag your finger along his chest. Ethan nearly shudders against your touch. It was only over the shirt, he shouldn't be freaking out so much. You began to egde closer, your breath hitting his face.

Ethan is biting his lip, stopping himself from just grabbing some part of you.

You drag your hand down his stomach until you stopped just above his bulge. "You're extremely dirty." You whispered. And Ethan's mouth had begun to open in a pant.

"Look at you. Turned on by...what?" You ask, running your finger down his thigh. "The smell of my hair?" Your nails sent a shiver down his spine. "Or was it the thrill of stealing another pair of my panties?"

You then lightly ghost the tip of your finger over his hard on. Tantilizingly light. Ethan's hips pathetically jolt, wishing you would touch him. Wishing he could touch you. "Is that what's got you hard?"

You meet his gaze. Ethan is breathing heavy, as a small snarl had egded his lips. He was beyond desperate, teased almost to the limit.

You then suddenly step back, making Ethan quickly whip his head to your leaving form. "Nice to properally meet you, Ethan."

He reached his limit. Ethan didn't have control over his body, as he grabbed you, yanking you back to him. Even though you were expecting this you still gasped at how swift the motion was.

Ethan grabbed your jaw, his breath hitting your lips. His hand slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him. He groaned as his cock pressed against your body. He turned you, so that your hips hit against a low washing machine. And he's smashing his lips against yours. He can't help but begin to grind into you as he laps at your tongue, whining into your mouth. "Holy fuck." He whimpers, finally tasting you.

Your mouth is opening, your own arousel, making your press your thighs together.

"No, no." Ethan hisses, grabbing one of your thighs as he sharply pulls them apart. He pressed his bulge against your pussy, making you gasp a moan. His mouth hangs open. "Oh, fuck—"

Ethan kisses you, hard. You were addicting. Not one of his fantasies could prepare him for this—for you. "Ethan—" You choke out as he continues to grind.

"You can't just tease me like that, and think you can leave." Ethan says, darting his tongue out to lick your jaw. "No..." Ethan breaths over your lips, his eyes hooded with lust. "I've wanted to touch you for so long." He moans.

You had begun to grind your own hips into him, the situation feeling extremely erotic. But you wanted some of that control back. You lead your hand down to pants, unbuttoning him and pulling his throbbing cock out. Ethan's hips stutter, his head hitting your shoulder.

You brought his head away, so that he can see you, as you spit straight onto his cock. Ethan jolts, his mouth opening in a whine at the action and visual.

You begin to stroke him, pulling your hand up and down appropriately. Ethan thrusted into your hand, whimpering into your neck. His tongue had darted out to lick your skin as he would occasionally bite when a shock of pleasure would shoot through him. "Oh, fuck— oh, god, y/n—" He whimpers and moans as he soon draws near.

"Such a dirty boy." You whisper into his ear. His hips shudder as he orgasms, his body jutting into you. The pleasure wrecks him, but as it ebbs away you don't slow your strokes.

Y-y/n." Ethan stutters, gripping the washing machine behind you. "I-it hurts, please."

"But Ethan..." you began as he whined, your strokes languidly going up and down. "You stole from me. Multiple times. I can't just reward you for that."

Ethan's mouth has opened against your skin as his fingers dig into the washing machine. "P-please. Oh, god, please—"

"You really want me to stop?" You ask. He just whimpers in response. "Aright." You bring your hand away, and Ethan is quick to grab your wrist.

"No, no, please don't stop. I'll do anything. Just please don't." Ethan begs as he brings your hand back to his cock. His hips jolt when you wrap your palm around him, and begin to stroke him again.

"Anything?" You tease.

"F-fuck— anything. Anything you want." Ethan hovers over your lips, as he draws close to his second orgasm. He kisses you, eating at your tongue and lips as his hips shudder in pleasure, his release spilling. "Shit." He moans in your mouth.

You slowly bring your hand away as you peck his cheek. He's flushed, hands still caging you in. You felt a rush whenever you would tease him, loving his desperate pleas.

"You said you'd do anything." You say. Ethan nods, meeting your gaze. A small smile had edged his lips. You looked so pretty this close.

"Then can you step away?"

Ethan's brows furrow. "Why?"

"You said anything."

Ethan grinds his teeth, but slowly steps back. You straighten your singlet, as you take a breath. You met Ethan's awaiting gaze. He seemed suspicious, beacuse you'd denied him before—trying to go. He didn't want you to, not now. "Don't you dare try and leave." Ethan says.

"Alright, then you can go." You say, licking your bottom lip.

Ethan begins to step closer. You place your hand out as you step away from the washing machine. "I said to step back." You try to sound firm but your tone is heavy with lust.

Ethan tilts his head as he nears you. You continue to back up, wanting to keep the control. But Ethan wasn't letting you get away when he hadn't even touched you yet.

He corners you into the wall making you curse. Ethan held eye contact, as his hand dragged to your thigh, he pulled you apart as his finger began to rub you through your sweatpants. You gulp, grabbing one of his shoulders. "You don't really deserve to touch me. Not after you—"

"After I used your panties to jerk off?" Ethan asked, quickening his pace. "After I used your cherry conditioner as lube?" He dipped his hand into your pants, bypassing your panties to get to your soaking pussy. You slightly shudder as he began to swirl his fingers around. "After I had to palm myself in class because you looked so pretty with your red lipstick and short skirt?"

A moan escaed you at the mix of his words and the work of his fingers. "Huh?" Ethan asks, kissing you slowly.

He pushes two fingers in straight away, making your mouth fall open. "I don't deserve to touch you. But that certainly doesn't I mean I won't." He begans to thrust in and out of you, hitting your g-spot, once he got a good angle.

You manage to grab his hair, making him look at your face. "You're still a perv." You say breathlessly.

Ethan nods, a grin forming. "I know."

Your head hits back as pleasure wracks your body. Ethan groans at the visual, his hands never wanting to leave you. He pulls your head back as he speaks to the skin of your cheek. "Now instead of your panties I can use this to jerk off to." He thrusts higher into you.

You moan, breathing turning erratic. "Oh, fuck." He kisses you hard, before whispering to your lips, grinning. "You smell lovely."

Then he pushes his head into the crook of your neck by your ear, smelling the lovely cherry.

#. ( psychos )#the ethan effect #ethan landry x y/n #jack champion x reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #jack champion #ethan landry oneshot #scream #scream 6 #jack champion x y/n #ethan landry smut #jack champion smut #scream 6 smut #scream smut

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heechwe · 10 days ago

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beam me up | 𝐜𝐬𝐛

୨୧ pairing: choi soobin x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 3.5k ୨୧ genre: lots of fluff, smidges of comedy, smut ୨୧ tags: parents!au, married!au, established relationship!au, body (mostly chest) worship, pet names (love, bunny, baby, etc), oral (f receiving), fingering, breeding kink, lactation kink, unprotected sex, down bad soobin essentially. ୨୧ synopsis: Going out after having a baby should be a breeze. So what if you don't feel incredibly confident? So what if you both act like awkward teenagers on your first date? It's you and Soobin, and that's all that matters. ➸ bless my pals @lovetaroandtaemin, @xomakara, and @heesuncore for reading this behemoth ilysm

Why am I so nervous? You think to yourself as you swipe the mauve shade in your hand across your bottom lip. Its light pigment prevents staining, yet provides noticeable definition, just enough to stand out. Your hair is in a low bun, two stray bangs falling over your cheeks. With your makeup and floral midi dress, you feel confident enough to step out and leave the house without becoming riddled with anxious thoughts.

The demands of motherhood have been hefty, but you clean up well. And despite all the dirty diapers and staying awake pumping, you’re ready to spend one night simply as Soobin’s wife. Perhaps a night out in town with your husband is exactly what you both need after three months of being parents.

It’s been picture perfect, without question. Minyoung has her father‘s pout when she sleeps, your long eyelashes, and the softness of a human being well beyond her years. But, you can’t deny that you miss the days where it was just you and Soobin in your own bubble.

Perhaps tonight, you can discover a balance where your old and new life blend harmoniously.

You step out into the living room to see Soobin with his mother, your daughter asleep in her grandmother’s arms. Soobin holds a laundry list of instructions in one hand and her car-seat in the other, waving his hands in frantic motions. “She usually naps like this for about two hours, but if she sleeps more, that’s even better. And then—“

Soobin stops short and looks back at you when he senses your presence. Your in-law and husband stare at you in disbelief. The frayed edges of your appearance from a few hours ago are nowhere to be seen.

Soobin looks at you like you hang the moon. His smile is small in the presence of his mother, him trying to maintain some semblance of modesty, but it’s ‌electric. “You look beautiful.” He sets the car-seat down on the floor to free his hand, reaching it out for you to take.

You do it gladly, smiling from ear to ear. Soobin also cleans up well, his button up tucked in his cargo pants. He’s always dressed a bit like a dad in training, and now he fits the bill‌. “You don’t look too bad yourself, Binnie.”

His face turns a shade of pink at the nickname, unable to hide your effect on him. He turns back to his mother and refers to the paper in his hand. “If you need something that isn’t in her diaper bag, please‌—“

“Soobin, I can handle it. Just spend the night with your lovely wife.” His mother winks at you and takes the car seat from him. “I promise to bring her back in the morning in one piece.”

You and Soobin kiss the top of Minyoung’s soft head and say your goodbyes, both of your hearts clenching. It’s the first time you’ve been apart from her for more than an hour or two, so the prospect is daunting, at the very least. “Be good for grandma, lil’ bun,” Soobin whispers to her sleeping figure.

When your mother-in-law leaves, Soobin looks back at you with a mixture of excitement, anxiety, and desire. “Ready to go?”

You nod, sharing the same concoction of emotions. Most importantly, though, you’re relieved to finally have some alone time together. Wherever the night takes you is anyone’s guess. “Definitely.”

You both sit at the table in the restaurant like it’s your first date. Uncertain about what to expect once the meal ends, full of nerves and anticipation.

Soobin finds it hard to make eye contact with you, his eyes moving across the entire room. He can’t help it when you look so beautiful. You always do, but tonight is different. He’s been so stuck in the haze of being a new dad, it’s like he’s seeing you clearly again. Now, he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

You’ve been married for half a decade, ‌yet every time he sees you, he falls deeper. It’s the first time for him every second he gets to touch you, kiss you, tell you how much you matter to him.

With a child, his feelings have only amplified. He looks at Minyoung some mornings and sees all the features he loves about you and vice versa in one human, his pride as great as his love.

But, instead of revealing he’s in the throes of intense admiration for you in the small Italian restaurant, he turns his focus back to the menu in his hands and looks over the wine list.

The appetizer you shared a few minutes ago has made him thirsty for some alcohol, it seems. “I know you have water, but do you want some Pinot, too? Oh! They have Moscato! I know that’s your favorite.”

It’s the way his eyes light up and his mouth curves into that signature O that makes you giggle‌, unable to contain it.

“What’s so funny?” Soobin looks up from his menu with mirth.

“Nothing at all, Binnie. I’m just happy.”

Your chest pinches at his soft reaction to your words, him looking over his menu at you with bright eyes.

Soobin has always been a goofball, intentionally or not, but it’s what makes him the best partner, among his many qualities. He knows when to be serious, taking the reins when necessary, but he’s well-versed in lightening the mood when you need it.

It’s surreal sometimes thinking about how you lucked out.

Suddenly, your thoughts cease thanks to the rising discomfort from your breasts. It started as an unnoticeable pinch when you gave your drink and light food order, but now it’s full-on pain erupting in your chest.

Why is it so uncomfortable?

You feel the droplets of milk settling into the fabric of your dress, your question answered in a flash.

The impending concern rises on Soobin’s face when he notices your scrunched-up brows and mouth. Then, he sees the two small wet patches forming on your chest. Immediately, he shucks off his jean jacket to give you. “Here baby, take this.”

A deep blush forms on your cheeks when you cover up with his garment. You’re unsure how to broach the subject or the rest of dinner in this state, immediately self-conscious. “I’m sorry. This is so embarrassing, I—”

“Baby, no. Don’t be sorry, it’s normal.” Soobin says the words with so much empathy, you could cry from that alone. You excuse yourself to use the bathroom and clean yourself up, not listening to the words that leave his lips in rapid succession. You’re a mom. It happens to every mom at some point! I love you!

Soobin feels useless, knowing no words he says will assuage your shame. He decides now is as good of a time as any to check up on Minyoung. It’s been almost three hours since he’s talked to his mother.

When the line rings, Soobin doesn’t let it bother him. Minyoung probably needed a burping or night-time bath. No big deal.

By the second unsuccessful attempt at contact, his heart drops into his stomach. What if something’s wrong? As he tries to call for the third and fourth time, his thoughts spiral further.

What if his mother rushed out with Minyoung and she forgot to bring her cell because it was so serious? He knows babies usually are out of the woods for colic by the third or fourth month, but anything’s possible, right?

Parental anxiety is one thing, a feeling Soobin knows well by now, but his instincts are usually spot-on. And something has to be going on if his mother isn’t getting back to him.

You trot over to the table, tucking Soobin’s jacket tighter around your chest so it doesn’t flap open. The event may have been embarrassing at the moment, but you’re ready to get the night back on track and focus on your husband.

You smile eagerly, not noticing the way Soobin’s face has gone stark white. “I think I got most of it, but—“

“We have to go. Something’s wrong.”

You don’t think twice, practically stealing Soobin’s keys from his pocket when he stands up. The two of you race out of the restaurant and to your little girl, your thoughts newly scrambled in the worst ways.

Soobin tries to knock on his parents’ door without slamming his fist against the wood, but he can’t help it. So many scenarios have built up in his head since his intuition kicked in. He could barely say one word on the drive to his mother’s. The silence was palpable in the air, both of your bodies filled to the brim with fear and regret for leaving her for one second.

Soobin’s mother answers the door with a shocked expression. “Honey, what are you two—“

Soobin barrels past her and into the house. You follow hot on his heels. His pace is quick, his voice loud as he calls out Minyoung’s name like she’s able to answer him back.

Then, you find Minyoung perfectly content. Soobin’s dad has her in his arms at the dinner table, feeding her a bottle of milk. “Hey, kids. Why are you here?”

Soobin stutters when he responds. “M-Mom wasn’t answering and we—“

“Oh, lord.” You hear her deep groan pervade the small kitchen. “You left the restaurant for that?”

“What were we supposed to think?” Your words are full of defense, lighthearted now that you’re not in panic mode. Were your worst thoughts so unexpected? You felt bad enough leaving your daughter alone with people you trusted just for a night of solitude. If something worse had happened, the guilt would’ve been too much to bear.

Soobin rushes over to Minyoung and takes her from his father’s arms. Droplets of milk spill from her lips, but she doesn’t care. She reaches up to touch Soobin, her little nails gliding across his face. “Daddy’s here, Minnie.” He presses his forehead to hers, smiling proudly. “I’m right here.”

You tear up at the image in front of you, relieved to see your baby girl out of harm’s way. Even if the harm was entirely imaginary, you’re calmer nonetheless.

Soobin walks towards you and kisses the crown of your head. “Sorry I pulled a false alarm, baby.”

Although you’ll never tell him, you don’t mind that he did so. He’s an incredible husband and father, always on alert for the two of you and putting his needs to the wayside. You have to remind him every day to also think of himself, and he appreciates you looking out for him in the same fashion.

You shake your head and move Minyoung from Soobin’s arms to yours. You kiss her chubby cheeks and she coos at the attention, the spitting image of her father. “Daddy is gonna be the death of me, isn’t he, baby girl?”

Soobin chuckles into your hair and holds onto one of Minyoung’s fists with his palm. “Not if I can help it.”

“Now that you both have made sure she’s okay, go back to your date night!” Your mother-in-law strides into the dining room to pluck Minyoung from your grip. Minyoung is more than comfortable with it, smiling widely into her grandmother’s neck. “It’s rude enough that you both interrupted your dinner time and ours.” She turns to speak directly to Minyoung. “Right, sweetie? How dare they!”

“It’s officially off, I promise.” Soobin puts his phone in the glove-box once he parks the car in the downtown parking garage, determined to make the rest of the date night go off without a hitch.

You laugh and take his hand in yours, interlacing your fingers. “So much for low-key and relaxing, right?”

“Hey!” He points at you with his other hand. “It’s only 8 PM. The night’s still young.”

“Well, we’re not gonna be able to go back to the restaurant now. Not after I practically gave out my milk for free.” You cover your face with the palm not wrapped in your husband’s, but he takes that one too.

“Stop it,” he chides with a stern pout. “Even if you leaked through your shirt every time we went out, you’d still be more beautiful than every other person on the planet.”

You tease, "You're just saying that."

“I mean it! Do you see how gorgeous and incredible Minyoung is? That’s half your handiwork.”

You roll your eyes, but your body lights from within at his words. “She’s half yours too. You probably didn’t notice, but every waitress was checking you out.”

Soobin blushes hard, suddenly shy. “They were not.”

“Yes, they were. I can’t blame them, though. Parenthood has made you ten times sexier.”

Soobin quirks an eyebrow, the undercurrent of passion in your words unmistakable. He gets closer to you until your faces are barely an inch apart. His lips ghost over yours. “I could say the same about you. I’ve only had eyes for you, but even more so now that you’ve had my baby.”

You gulp, noticing how hard your thighs are clenching in your seat. Soobin notices too, holding one of your knees in his hand with a smirk. “Binnie, I’m not hungry for food anymore.”

He presses his lips to yours slowly. You moan into his mouth from such exquisite pleasure that’s been long overdue. He glides his tongue in between your lips as he palms one of your breasts over his jacket. When he takes his mouth from yours, he’s breathing heavily. “I was gonna say the same thing.”

It’s a clash of teeth and tongue when you make it inside the house. Hands run over curves and skin to take off the restricting clothing, appearances be damned.

You discard Soobin’s button-up somewhere in the hallway as he pulls your hair loose from your bun, clutching the strands at your nape to expose more of your neck. He riddles your skin with love bites before you even make it to the bedroom, but you both love it. How feral and frantic you are for one another, no children or external restrictions holding you back.

By the time your body hits the king-sized bed, all that’s left on you, garments-wise, is your thin bralette and mismatched underwear. Soobin looks over your body with a hunger that’s unshakeable. The poor man’s probably salivating at the mouth by now, just like you.

Ever since the doctor’s six-week ban on any physically strenuous activity, he couldn’t imagine dry-humping without fear of hurting you. That timeline came and went in a flash, but with the fatigue of daily life, it seemed impossible to find time to be intimate.

Until now, that is.

“How did I get so lucky? You’re angelic.” Soobin spreads his palms out over your chest. His long fingers squeeze your breasts over the confines of your lingerie, making you moan. “I have to take this off, bunny. I need to see you.”

You feel heat pooling at your center from his gaze, his words, his touches on your skin. You unclasp the clips holding your bra together and flick it away, not breaking eye contact the entire time.

He used to be so shy during sex, and now he wastes no time unzipping his pants to touch himself. “Fucking perfect,” he grunts, staring at the pebbling of your nipples and the volume of your tits from lactation. He spreads the pooling pre-cum in his hand to rub his cock earnestly.

You whimper and clench around nothing, the center of your underwear incredibly damp. Why did he get to have all the fun and leave you frustrated? “Binnie, please touch me.”

“Gladly.” He uses the hand not holding his dick to yank your underwear off and throw them in a corner of your room. Once the fabric is gone, he dives in between your legs. His licks start small, kitten-like in their touch, but soon he grows hungrier, more dominant. Eating you out has always been one of his favorite things during sex, like it's the only thing he needs to do to sustain himself.

“You taste amazing. You always do.” He stops jerking himself off to press two fingers inside of you without warning, mixing his essence with yours on his way to your warm and wet walls. His lips and tongue remain attached to your clit as he prods you soft and slow.

“God, it feels so good.” You raise your hips to match the rhythm of his hand inside of you. Despite being eager to keep his mouth between your legs, you reach down for him, wanting to feel his lips on yours again. “I want you up here with me.”

Soobin smiles gently before crawling up the expanse of your body. He looks down at you, unable to hide how strong his desire runs in his veins. But instead of his declarations of love that he’s said a million times before, he greets you with a deep kiss to your lips and pushes his fingers back into your cunt.

You moan into his mouth. “Jesus fuck, babe.” You whimper as he leans his head down to latch his mouth to one of your nipples, still ramming his hand deeper into you. Some milk sinks onto his tongue and dribbles past his chin, but he doesn’t care. If anything, it turns him on more. His cock produces more pre-cum and spreads onto your bedsheets.

“I want you inside of me, Soobin.” You spread your legs wider for him to settle into, and he does.

He rubs the head of his cock across your slit before nestling inside fully, his mouth opening in a large gasp as he fills you. “It always feels like the first time, bunny. Always so tight for me, fuck.”

His pace is reverent, driven by his lust, his love for you, and his desire to make this experience as incredible as it already is for him. He rubs your clit between his fingers, and your face contorts into absolute pleasure after a few minutes like that, privy to every feeling. When you fall apart, your body clenching around him in ecstasy, the moment is too beautiful for Soobin to handle. It’s a picture he wants to tattoo on his heart forever.

You could have done anything in this life, and by his luck and the universe’s grace, you were led straight to him and have given him some of the greatest gifts he could ever ask for. Your love, your hand in marriage, your children.

He would follow you anywhere without question. And he may not always believe it, but he also holds all the same powers over you. Without him, the world would be a lot duller, no color to define the edges and details of the life that you’ve built together. He makes it all worth it.

So when his next words leave his mouth, you can’t help but agree with them, the thought too beautiful in the throes of your desire to say no to. “I want to fill you up, bunny. Have another baby with you, as many as you want. So beautiful like this, but you’re even more beautiful heavy and pregnant, shit,” he moans, eyes screwed shut as he chases his own orgasm.

“Yes, Binnie, fill me up. Come inside of me, give me another. Pretty please?”

Those two words are his undoing, the blade that severs the cord that’s been slowly tightening in his stomach since he saw you in your dress five hours ago. He spills inside of you, your insides hot with his release. He doesn’t let any part of it go to waste, fucking it into you until his hips can’t go for much longer.

He lies beside you, both of your chests heaving. And while the moment was an amalgamation of intense passion, you both look at each other and laugh like teenagers. It takes you back to that first night, the first “I love you,” all the first you’ve shared and the ones that are yet to come.

“You’re my best friend, you know that, right?” He rubs your bare arm as he stares deeply into your eyes, more in love than he was a second ago. “I could not have found anyone better to be my wife and my children’s mother than you.” He kisses you on the forehead, his lips featherlight. “I love you.”

You may be incredibly hormonal, any words that make your heart seize up more than likely to cause a well of tears in your eyes. But these don’t. They make your heart lighter, shoot all your fears down, and quell any insecurities that have sprung to the surface since the two of you have become parents.

“I love you, Binnie. In this lifetime and all the other ones,” you respond. You snuggle into his chest, feeling the tempo of his heartbeat against your ear.

Everyone told you both how hard having kids would be. You know you’re not in the home stretch, not in the slightest, but with Soobin, no mountain you’ll come across is insurmountable.

All because he’s yours and you’re his.

@yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss @pars-ley @lovetaroandtaemin @wonwovy @hursheys

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fishfooddude · 10 months ago

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Six Months

An attempt at some parenthood angst?

Similarly to the title, this fic has been in my WIP folder for a minute; it went through a handful of edits. I'd like to think this is good enough for y'all.

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