#glancing over his shoulder…. pouting……. moving in slow motion…………….

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

@dollsuguru

Jealous Jinshi letting Maomao know he's jealous in his own Jinshi way

[cloudwisp]

𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬 · 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦

contents: smut. minors dni 18+. reader wears a nightgown to subtly get the message across. attempt at seduction. lots of teasing and kissing. first time with him. size difference. fingering. borderline overstimulation. no protection. mostly sweet lovemaking but implications of leading to rougher sex. sylus has a huge dick (he is standing at 6’2 after all). 2.9k wc.

꒰ note ᰔ based off of this arranged marriage sylus x wife!reader post but can be read as a standalone. smut writing is never one of my strengths but I had fun with this one!! and I can only hope it’s an enjoyable read to those who were anticipating a sequel 🤍꒱

“Doing a little late night reading?” Sylus glances at your form through his peripheral as you enter his bedroom with a light skip in your steps. He’s perched at the end of his bed with a high profile report in hand, and with a tilt of your head and prying eyes you hover over the document between his fingers as you stand before him. You skim through a few lines before he tosses it aside, murmuring that it’s nothing of importance when something more interesting happens to catch his attention and you feel the heat of his gaze doing you a once-over.

Your cheeks warm and you feel a tad shyness wash over you when he quietly appraises your body clad in a gorgeous silk slip with lace embellishments. He hums in appreciation, a slow smirk curling on his lips before he reaches out to grasp your waist and pull you forward onto his lap. He secures one arm around you to keep you in place and his thumb sweeps over the delicate sleepwear and the bare skin of your thigh in a soft, languid motion. “You’ll catch a cold in just your nightgown, kitten. Or did you wear it for me?”

“Maybe I just wanted to change into something a little more comfortable.” You respond with a coy smile and playful shrug of your shoulder which causes the thin strap to fall from just a whisper of movement. He enjoys your little display and act of innocence if this is your way of telling him that you want to deepen the relationship through shared intimacy like normal marital couples do during this time of night. And truthfully, he’s been waiting far too long for this moment to come but he didn’t expect you to offer yourself on a silver platter. What a sweet and precious wife you are.

“I’m sure you could find something more suitable than a flimsy nightgown.” His knuckles brush up along your arm and hooks the fallen strap around his finger to slide it back into its proper place. “But then, perhaps you wanted to tease me, too?”

You click your tongue in disappointment. No matter what you do he was always two steps ahead of you—it’s thoughtful yet infuriating especially when you want him to act more surprised. “Nothing ever gets passed by you, it seems.”

His large hand slips under the lace trimmings of your nightgown and moves closest to your backside for a firm squeeze. “You should know by now how badly I want you, sweetheart. And with you sitting in my lap, looking breathtaking like that. I’m tempted to just rip this little thing off of you.”

You purse your lips into a small pout that’s adorable to him and grunt in disapproval. “What if this night dress is one of my favorites? Don’t I get a say in what you can and can’t tear?”

He arches a brow as though to challenge you by putting the theory into practice. You keep forgetting that he could read you like an open book, and he loves nothing more than proving you wrong at every chance. “Are you saying you wouldn’t enjoy it if I did? I’ll buy you new ones. Better ones.”

You mull over at the thought. “Sounds troublesome. I’ll have to keep making these frequent shopping trips.”

“I just mean the nightgown is in the way of me seeing all of you. You’re more than welcome to wear it any other time, but right now… I want it off.”

“Well, it’s only fair you make the next move.” He groans lowly when you shift your weight in his lap and rest your head against him. You drag your manicured finger down his chest and gently flick at the silver chain looped between his collar. “I did come all this way just for you.”

He understood your meaning and leans down close enough so his warm breath fans over your lips when he tilts your chin to look at him. “If you want me to take off my clothes, you’ll have to undress me yourself.” The soft spoken words in his deep voice send a tingle to the back of your brain, and the lingering kiss he places on the corner of your mouth adds a fluttering sensation in your stomach.

“Still making me work for it? And here I thought I would be cherished and wouldn’t even need to lift a finger.” You bring yourself upright and shove him down onto the bed to climb over him and straddle him. He gives you a knowing smirk at the sound of your cute gasp when you feel just how hard he is for you against your clothed cunt. You make quick work of undoing the underlay of buttons tucked beneath the thick fabric of his tailored dress shirt and remove it entirely to reveal every bit of lean muscle. His build akin to that of a spectacularly sculpted marble statue down to the details of his veins on his strong arms.

“Making you work for it is half the fun, kitten. But just remember who will be putting in the most work tonight.” His hand wanders up your thigh again and moves along the curve of your waist, the expensive silk bunches under his touch and he gropes the fullness of your breast. You feel the strap loosen around your shoulder once more. “Are you liking what you’re seeing? You’re allowed to mark what’s yours, you know. But I’d like to be able to mark you as mine too, wife.” His hungry eyes slowly roam over your matching panties and midriff before he returns your gaze.

Your smaller hand covers his knuckles meanwhile his thumb brushes across your nipple and he revels in the feeling of the bud hardening over the material. “You’re just always so straightforward, aren’t you?” You sensually wrap your finger around the other strap that’s perfectly intact and at your cue Sylus glides his hand down to the small of your back and watches as the dress cascades down to your midsection.

“And you’re so beautiful.” You’re a heavenly sight to behold with the way his amorous stare commits your very existence to his memory, particularly the swell of your lovely breasts that’s heavy with lust and begging for more of his attention. He gently reaches for your wrist and his fingers smooth under your palm to bring your hand up to his face. His thumb runs over the wedding band that binds you to him laying a light kiss against your knuckles, then places your hand over his shoulder waiting for your next move.

You don’t waste another second closing the distance between you two and crash your lips against his for a needy and desperate kiss. Your fingers tangle into his silver locks and your heat grinds against him hoping for some semblance of relief from the ache that’s building inside you. You feel him envelop your breasts fully with each caress and tender squeeze and a little bit of nipple play.

Sylus tastes faintly of sweet, tannic notes from the lingering aftertaste of red wine as your tongue meets his through parted lips. His arms and hands alternate between hugging your body and grip tightening on your hips, bucking himself up into your heat. You feel yourself needing more, wanting more and being closer to him so you hurriedly unbuckle his belt and suddenly the sound of fabric tearing reaches your ears.

You muffle in surprise against his lips and push him back just enough to see him wearing a smug expression. “I should’ve known you’d go against my wishes.” You scoff in disbelief and yet there’s a grin playing across your features that betrays your earlier words. You hate to admit he was right from the start—that you’d find the ripping more attractive instead of being carefully unwrapped like you both have all the patience in the world.

Sylus discards the now ruined piece of clothing aside. He lifts you with ease and your back embraces the cool sheets when he drops you down on the mattress and returns to his full height. “I was never one to follow rules. Besides, you look perfect like this.” You support yourself up on your elbows to follow his movements, and any smart comeback you have dies in your throat when he picks up where you left off by unfastening his belt and stripping out of his trousers. His boxer briefs follow suit and he thinks it’s adorable how you look mesmerized from this performance alone.

Your eyes settle on his huge cock. Almost gawking at it and you unconsciously clench your thighs together. It’s perfectly proportioned to the rest of him—long and notably thicker with an upward center curve and a few prominent veins here and there. He flushes a pretty shade of red that’s gradient from the head down and his pubes are neatly trimmed.

“You don’t have to look so scared, kitten.” He rasps an amused chuckle, and he feels you tense slightly when his hand scales up along your knee to your inner thigh and he dips his fingers between your legs. “I’ll take my time with you so you can handle me.”

Your breath hitches when he feels how drenched you are through your panties. He offers a gratified hum, his handsome face and broad shoulders become your main focus as he closes in on you. “Spread your legs wider.” He murmurs into your ear, and as soon as you give him more access he delves into your mouth for a bruising kiss and chases you down onto the bed. His ministrations on your clit feel absolutely sinful yet so wonderful and your arm wrap around his back meanwhile your hand explores the muscled panels of his upper body and the areas that are within your reach.

A string of saliva connects you both then disappears as your lips come apart. But he doesn’t stray far when the exquisite look on your face is a breath away and he pulls your panties aside to collect your arousal with two digits sliding through your puffy folds. Your lustful sounds escape in a warm exhale as soon as he slowly inserts his thick fingers into your tight pussy, and you’re quite the vision arching your back so tastefully.

“Mmh, that f-feels so good, Sylus.” Your eyes glaze over when he steadily pumps in and out of you, curling so deliciously at your sweet spot and he marvels at the way your cunt is greedily sucking in his fingers. There’s nothing else like him, the way he stretches you and reaches the deeper parts and hits the bits you can’t yourself. He adores the breathless sighs and mewls of his name when he pushes you to the edge even more while kissing you senselessly.

“You sound beautiful. I love the way my name tastes on your lips.” You can feel him smirk against you, but you’re too immersed in your pleasure to respond in words that aren’t broken syllables. He trails open-mouth kisses down to your jawline and along the column of your neck, grazing his teeth and softly sucking on your skin until hues of velvet purple form. Your head burrows into the soft cushion of the mattress, hips squirming as your hand clutches onto his forearm from tension coiling inside you.

“M’gonna come soon, Sy—!” Your pretty moans and pants grow heavier each second, and he loves feeling your body quiver when you’re pressed under him. He’s still knuckles deep inside you with every intention of bringing you up to heaven and back down to him. After all, he doesn’t believe in doing things halfway but can’t pass an opportunity to tease his darling wife.

“You’re getting so close already? I barely got started with you, sweetie.” He chuckles lowly yet his cock twitches as precum oozes and leaks down from the slit of his tip. “Don’t hold it in now. Let go and come for me.”

He’s met with your gorgeous o-face when the euphoric bliss courses through your entire body as your walls tighten around his fingers. Your moans turn into squeals and you try to shove his hand away to soften your orgasm but he doesn’t budge from being much stronger than you. The feeling is more than you can handle when your thighs clamp together to stop his movements. But you don’t want the addictive sensation to leave just yet when he borderline overstimulates you, turning you into a trembling and writhing mess.

You barely have a moment to catch your breath when a chortle escapes you from watching him bring his fingers coated in your cum to his mouth for a curious taste. “Mm. Sweet, just as I thought. You did great, kitten.” He leans down to plant a chaste kiss on your forehead, and the first wave of your drawn-out release slowly ebbs away. “Don’t you think you deserve one more?” Sylus pulls your soaked panties down your legs and casts them aside, leaving you completely bare under his gaze.

“I should hope so. Been wanting for you to stuff me with your fat cock tonight.” You’re still a little breathless when your finger glides down his toned chest in a sensual and playful manner. He makes a content hum at the sound of that with an upward quirk of his lips.

“What a bold and resilient wife I have on my hands. As long as I have you, I’ll never be bored again.” He gladly hoists your leg to wrap around his waist and spits down, giving himself a few strokes making it slick before aligning himself to your dripping cunt. His precum mixes with the remnants of your previous climax with the heavy drag of his tip from your opening up along your clit. He revels in the way your body responds with a little spasm. “I won’t have you going back on your words now.”

The flutter of your lashes steers away from his deep and enigmatic eyes, a nervous gnaw of your lower lips as you anticipate the painful stretch from taking him. “Go slow, okay? Because you know…” He knew you were implying about his sheer size, and you feel him grab hold of your hand and press your interlaced hand against the bed beside your head.

He captures your swollen lips that feel entirely too sweet and intimate, replacing your worries with a gentle tangle of his encompassing love and adoration that seeps into your soul. “I wouldn’t dream about hurting you. That’s a promise. But you have to let me in first.” Your breath hitches when his aching tip probes your entrance, yet the tension doesn’t leave your body until he tells you to focus on him with the exchange of kisses laced with a growing insistence. “You’ll let me know if it hurts, kitten? I want to make you feel good.”

With that said, your sharp nails dig into his shoulder blade and draw red lines at the burning stretch that feels too much yet so good at the same time. Your soft sighs and whimpers fill the hazy room and he’s fucking you slowly with just the tip to help ease the initial discomfort. He searches your face every now and again making sure you’re okay before he continues, letting out a guttural moan when he slips in a little more with each thrust until he carves his way into you completely.

“You’re in too deep—hah. Feel so full and good.” You shudder when he stills his movements, throbbing cock nestled inside you to the hilt and kissing your cervix. There’s a carnal desire brewing in his stomach seeing you pinned under his weight keeping him nice and warm. He wouldn’t mind spending the entire night with you, any plans and commitments he had prior be damned the moment you swayed in through the double doors. “Want you to m-move, please.”

The sound of your polite begging makes him twitch involuntarily, and he could only imagine what desperate pleas you have in store for him tonight and he’s looking forward to it. When your pretty lips implore him to fuck you faster and harder he won’t be able to hold back. After all, he has always been ready and waiting to give himself to you that aligns with your willingness to accept him. There is no love purer than his, this craving he has reserved only for you. “You know you only have to ask, and I’ll give you everything you want. Just be careful what you wish for, sweetie.”

Sylus chuckles at your cute whine shortly after—such a needy little thing you are. He falls into a sweet and slow rhythm that makes you feel each thrust, the head of his dick down to its shape and following the shaft that caresses the underside of your pleasure endings so incredibly good. Your legs wrap around his back and you pull him in deeper because close just isn’t close enough for you. You need to feel the heat of his body sear against your skin as you hold him, and in turn you feel him squeeze your interlaced hand. “Tonight, you’re all mine. Forget anyone else in the world but me.”

[snail-day]

Nanami doesn't understand Minecraft. The appeal. The garish colors, the jagged edges. A sky made of squares, a sun that moved in awkward, ticking motions. (Something you claimed to be lag?) It was like staring into a world that hadn’t finished rendering. No plot. No rules. No real purpose. Just…blocks.

He had better things to do. Things with structure, routine. A glass of wine, a warm light, a novel in hand. You tucked into his side while he read aloud, your body slowly going slack with sleep, trusting him to hold you there.

That was comfort. That was meaningful. Yet, when you’d asked him to play, with your voice bright and teasing and just a little hopeful, he didn’t say no. Your pout being rather convincing.

“The movie’s coming out soon,” you’d said. “You can’t go in blind.” “Ten minutes,” you’d bargained, tugging on the sleeve of his linen shirt. “Just ten.”

So here he was.

The gentle sound of footsteps in grass tapped from the speakers - flop, flop, flop. He moved through a clumsy world, bumping into trees, accidentally crafting buttons instead of planks. A cow lowed in the distance, slow and strangely calming. Nearby, soft music drifted in, simple piano notes, echoing into the abyss of the lonely world.

Nanami narrowed his eyes. He hated how his character’s arms flailed when he walked. Hated how the pickaxe floated in midair, like it wasn’t even touching anything. The game defying the natural laws. Was deforestation what you called a good time?

But you were leaning into his side now, draped in the oversized cardigan he’d folded over the couch for you. Your head rested on his shoulder, your body warm against his, legs tucked under you like a sleepy cat. You were watching him, tired, content, eyes starting to flutter closed.

He pressed another key.

The sound of mining echoed - chink, chink, chink. Stone cracked apart in perfect cubes - plop, plop, plop. Gathering each one carefully. When he’d collected enough, he opened the building menu, fingers moving slower now, searching through the recipes.

If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right. Loading minecraft wiki on a tab.

The house came first. Something modest but stable. No asymmetry. No ugly floating roofs like the ones you’d shown him with pride earlier that day. He used cobblestone for the frame, added a wooden roof and glass windows, and placed lanterns precisely two blocks apart along the walls.

Inside, he built shelves. Lined with books and a small fireplace in the corner. The fire crackled, low and soft, pixel sparks dancing upward. The sound of it mixed with the slow, soothing soundtrack and the gentle sounds of squids swimming (more like dying) on the beach.

He planted wheat outside on a grass patch. A small, efficient garden. You claimed there was carrots, potatoes, beets. A search for another day.

And when he found a cat - tiny, pixelated, meowing once with a high-pitched chirp - he coaxed it inside with fish and told it to sit by the fire.

You shifted against him, murmuring something soft, unintelligible, your hand unconsciously finding his and curling around it.

His chest ached.

This game…wasn’t so pointless after all.

It wasn’t about the blocks. It was about the quiet in-between. The safety. The fact that he could create a space just for you, even in this ridiculous little world. A place where the light never went out and the cat always waited by the fire.

Nanami glanced down at your sleeping form, thumb brushing your knuckles.

You deserved that.

You deserved everything.

“…You’re lucky I love you,” he said softly, kissing the crown of your head, barely above a whisper. The cat let out a quiet mrrp. Nanami, with a ghost of a smile, planted a flower by the window.

[cnnabon]

ㅤㅤ( SJY. )ㅤㅤ✶ㅤㅤPRETTY LIPS

ㅤ&&ㅤㅤ ㅤ𝗎𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌 : 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗎𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌.

SOMAR𝒊O ─── the boy you're tutoring wants to kiss you 엔하이픈 제이크 𝐱 𝑓. reader ✉️ wc. 662 ✶ careful ! skinship, kissing, suggestive, petnames

student!jake who gets distracted by your pretty lips when you're tutoring him and struggles to focus.

Leaning over his work, you finished marking with a sigh, meeting his expectant gaze. “You didn’t get any better.” You spoke finally, pulling your pink lips into a pitiful smile. Noticing that he wasn’t bothered by his marks, let alone focusing on what you were saying, you looked back at him staring at your lips with a foolish grin growing on his own. 

Waving your hand in front of his face, you snapped him out of his daydream. “This is probably why you aren’t getting better.” Shaking your head, he continued grinning at you while you pulled out more worksheets. 

“Do I have to do another one?” He complained, finally understanding what his distraction caused. “Precisely,” You began, dropping another paper on his desk. “Language is one of the easiest subjects, it’s hard to believe that someone could fail in it.” 

“Say that to your physics marks.” He mumbled, beginning his work bitterly. Scowling at his snarky comment, you resumed studying, pursing your lips into a natural pout while filling in the answers. 

Losing focus again, he glanced up to see you mouthing your thoughts silently, lips downturned and pressed against the pen you rested underneath your bottom lip. Feeling eyes boring holes into you, you turned to him, still staring at you thoughtfully. “What now?” 

“Your lips are pretty.” 

Left dumbfounded by his sentence, you waited for him to break into his usual teasing grin. Staring into his flirty glance, you sighed and brushed your hair to the side of your face to hide the rosy tint growing on your cheeks, mumbling a quiet, “Thank you.” Before trying to focus on your work but finding it difficult because of his eyes still staring into you. 

Fed up by the clumsy mistakes you were making from the intensity of his gaze, you shifted your gaze to him. “If I get a 90 in this worksheet, can you give me a kiss?” He finally spoke. 

Your heartbeat strummed loudly against your chest as you raised your arched eyebrows. “Get a 95 and I might consider it.” You replied, watching his face light up from your flustered reaction as he moved back to his work, eagerly answering the questions. 

Moments later, he handed you the paper, smiling widely as he watched you mark it, completely taken off guard by his sudden skill in the subject. “Did you cheat?” 

“I’m only taking tutoring classes so I can spend my whole afternoon with you.” Unarmed by his flattery, you finished marking the paper which sported a large red ‘98%’ on the top. 

Wasting no time, he stood up, pushing your chair closer to his and leaning over it. “I get my reward, right?” Wishing that you had increased the amount that he had to reach, you nodded reluctantly, hearing your heart beat swiftly against your chest. 

Feeling his soft lips press against yours, you gently shut your eyes, suddenly aware of your inexperience in kissing. Moving his hand to the nape of your neck to pull you in closer, you felt your body relax and move against his mouth, the initial slow kiss becoming messier everytime you pulled back. 

Unaware of how many minutes passed, the librarian gently tapped on your table, bringing the both of you to lean away, suddenly feeling awkward. “The library’s closing.” She informed you before turning away and shaking her head. 

Glancing at him uncomfortably, you shot him a sheepish smile. “At least you don’t need to take tutoring classes anymore.” Organising the mess on the table, he glanced at your embarrassed figure succeeding at avoiding his gaze.

Silently stuffing his things into his bag and slinging it over his shoulder he motioned towards you and leaned over your chair.

“No.” He replied, smirking at your figure freezing up and fanning his hot breath over your lips. “If it means I can be with you, I’ll still fail every test for tutoring.”

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[luvoooenha]

Juno!

Doing ‘Juno’ positions in front of my boyfriend

Summary- Y/N was really into Sabrina Carpenter's ‘Juno’ Positions and decided to try them in front of her boyfriend. 

Pairing- hyung line! enha x girlfriend Y/n!

Warnings - spicy, freaky positions, fluff, loveable couples, kissing, cuddling, skinship, uhh lowkey idk pls lmk what i missed…

Word count - 1.8k

a/n! - have you ever tried this one? SORRY I HAVE SO MANY SABRINA CARPENTER STORY LINES I WANNA DO 

-

Heeseung - Standing Doggy

“Wait—babe, you can’t laugh!” I warned him with a smile, pushing Heeseung onto the couch before turning toward my laptop.  

“I won’t,” he chuckled, leaning back against the cushions. “But what exactly are you doing?”  

Ignoring his question, I scrolled through my playlist and clicked play on Juno. As the opening notes filled the room, I turned to face him, hands on my hips.  

Heeseung’s eyes slowly trailed over my outfit—his gaze darkening as it took in the tight, red, bedazzled bodysuit hugging every inch of me in all the right places. The deep cut of the neckline, the way the high-cut sides accentuated my waist, and, of course, the chunky white platform boots that made me at least five inches taller.  

“First of all,” he started, leaning forward slightly, “what are you wearing?” His tongue darted out to wet his lips.  

I frowned slightly, a teasing pout forming. “Do you not like it?”  

His smirk widened, hands gripping his knees as if to keep himself in place. “No, baby, I love it. Makes you look sexy as hell.”  

He started to get up, but I immediately placed my hands on his chest, pushing him back down. “I said watch.”  

I scrunch my nose and leaned in to give him a light peck before turning back to my laptop.  

“You make me wanna make you fall in love…”  

The song’s sultry lyrics filled the room, and I let myself move to the beat, swaying my hips side to side. As 'Juno' played, I let my body follow along, rolling my hips slowly with the rhythm. When Sabrina sang, "Wanna try out some freaky positions?" I accentuated the line with a deliberate motion, placing a hand on my hip and rolling it teasingly.  

Heeseung’s smirk grew, his eyes locked onto me like I was the only thing in the room.  

I took a slow step back, turning slightly to the side, then bent forward, arching my back into the standing doggy position right in front of him.  

“Have you ever tried this one?” I sang along, glancing over my shoulder.  

His jaw clenched, his fingers tapping against his thighs as he spread his legs slightly wider. He was holding back, but I could see the restraint wavering.  

His voice was huskier now. “Babe…”  

I straightened up and turned to face him, still moving with the beat, loving the way his eyes followed my every movement. His fingers curled against his jeans, and I knew he was waiting—waiting for me to finish, waiting to see just how far I’d take this little performance.  

With a playful grin, I straddled his lap, my arms draping around his neck as I whispered, “Are you just gonna sit there and watch all night?”  

Heeseung’s hands finally found my waist, gripping firmly as he pulled me closer, his lips ghosting over my ear.  

“You started this, baby,” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down my spine. “But now? It’s my turn.”  

And just like that, my little performance turned into something way more than just a show.  

-

more below cut!

Jay- Standing One Leg Up

Y/N had been down a Juno rabbit hole for the past week. Ever since she saw Sabrina Carpenter flawlessly execute those daring, flexible positions onstage, she’d been obsessed. The confidence, the control, the absolute power of it all.

So naturally, she decided she had to try them herself.

Jay was sprawled out on her bed, scrolling on his phone, completely oblivious to the chaos about to unfold. Y/N took a deep breath, hyping herself up. Alright, girl, channel your inner Sabrina. You got this.

"Hey, love," she purred, standing at the foot of the bed.

He looked up, intrigued. "Yeah?"

Without another word, she attempted the first move—one leg stretched high, arms positioned for balance. Except… balance she did not have. In a matter of seconds, she wobbled, lost her footing, and landed not-so-gracefully in a heap on the floor.

Jay shot up, eyes wide. "Oh my God—are you okay?"

Y/N groaned, face half-buried in the carpet. "Yeah… totally meant to do that."

Jay bit back a laugh, failing miserably. "What exactly are you doing?"

She sat up dramatically, flipping her hair. "I was trying to recreate the Juno moves. Y’know, from Sabrina’s tour?"

Jay raised an eyebrow. "Wait, like the crazy bendy ones?"

"The very same," she said, striking a pose (while seated this time—safer that way).

Jay smirked, getting up and offering her a hand. "Baby, I love the effort, but I also love you in one piece."

Y/N huffed playfully. "So you're saying I shouldn’t try the one where I—"

"Nope. Absolutely not," he cut in, laughing. "Though, I mean, if you really wanna impress me, you could always just… sit next to me and let me adore you."

Y/N pretended to think it over. "That does sound easier than breaking my spine."

Jay pulled her onto the bed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Yeah, and way cuter."

She sighed dramatically. "Fine, but next time, I’m practicing with a helmet and knee pads."

Jay chuckled, wrapping an arm around her. "I’ll be there with an ice pack, just in case."

-

(click on sc to see the positionnnn)

Jake - Oral

From the moment I stepped into the living room, Jake’s eyes locked onto me. He barely glanced at the TV, barely acknowledged whatever he was doing in the kitchen. His entire focus was on me—the way my light pink mini skirt hugged my hips, how the pink corset from last year’s Halloween costume pushed up my chest.

His gaze darkened immediately. I could practically see the thoughts running through his head.

Jake moved fast, stepping out of the kitchen, his long legs eating up the distance between us. “Mami, what are you doing?” he murmured, his voice husky as he pressed soft kisses against my neck.

I let out a light chuckle, tilting my head to the side to give him more access. “I wanna show you something.”

He frowned slightly when I placed my hands on his chest and gently pushed him back, but he followed me into the bedroom anyway, curiosity sparking in his dark eyes.

I grabbed the dry shampoo bottle off the dresser and turned to face him with a playful smile.

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Okay…? What are you supposed to do with that?”

I tried to move away, but he was already clinging to me again—his arms wrapped tightly around my waist, his body pressed against mine. He smelled like cologne and a hint of vanilla from the cereal he was eating earlier.

“Loveeeee,” I whined, squirming in his grip. “Let go for just a second. I want to show you something.”

Jake sighed dramatically but finally let go. “This better be good.” He flopped onto the couch, legs spread wide, watching me with narrowed eyes.

I grinned, scrolling through my phone until I found "Juno" and pressed play. The smooth beat filled the room, and I wasted no time getting into it—swaying my hips, running my hands up my thighs as I moved in sync with the music. Jake’s frown was gone now, replaced by something hungrier.

When the verse hit, I dropped to my knees.

With one hand, I lazily tugged my hair into a loose ponytail, my fingers curling around the strands. In the other, I held the dry shampoo bottle, positioning it right in front of my lips. I moved it up and down in slow, teasing motions, smirking as I sang along to the lyrics.

“Have you ever tried this one?”

Jake froze.

His jaw clenched, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. His knuckles turned white where he gripped his knee.

Then, before I could blink, he snatched the bottle out of my hand and tossed it onto the couch. His other hand reached for his phone, and I heard the faint click of the camera.

“Oh, baby girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with something dark and amused. He ran his fingers through my hair, tugging lightly, making my scalp tingle.

I looked up at him, batting my lashes innocently. “What?”

Jake tilted his head, his smirk widening. “I like this.”

He tucked his phone away and leaned forward, his hand sliding down to my chin, forcing me to keep my eyes locked on his. “But I think I’d like the real thing even more.”

His thumb brushed over my bottom lip, his gaze dropping, heat simmering behind those brown eyes.

And I had a feeling we weren’t making it out of the living room anytime soon.

-

Sunghoon- One Leg up- split

Y/N had never been one to back down from a challenge, and tonight was no different.

Ever since she saw Sabrina Carpenter effortlessly performing those “Juno” positions on tour, she’d been obsessed. The way Sabrina moved—so confident, so fluid, so in control—it was the kind of energy Y/N wanted to channel.

So, naturally, she decided she was going to try them herself. In front of Sunghoon.

Bad idea? Maybe. But she was committed.

Sunghoon, her ever-supportive but annoyingly amused boyfriend, sat on her bedroom floor, leaning back on his hands as he watched her cue up Juno on her speaker. “So, let me get this straight,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips. “You’re trying to recreate the Juno positions?”

“Yes.” Y/N turned to him with full confidence. “Prepare to be amazed.”

Sunghoon chuckled. “Oh, I’m prepared.”

The music started, and Y/N took a deep breath. First, she rolled her shoulders back, channeling her inner pop star. Then, she stepped forward with a dramatic hip sway, tossing her hair over her shoulder like she owned the stage. Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, impressed so far.

Then came the first move— I laid on my side, lifted up on leg, then the split, which landed perfectly

“Have you ever tried this one?” I asked with a smile on my face, being happy that I landed the split. Sunghoon was already grinning.

“Damn love, you look so hot while doing that,” He smirked and got up to lift me from the floor.

I giggled, “oh trust me, in my pj shorts? Sure my love…” As he picked me up, I wrapped my legs “Maybe, I wanna try that one?” Sunghoon smirked, his hands settling under my thighs. “And you could keep practicing. I wouldn’t mind a private encore.”

Her cheeks burned, but she grinned. “Oh? So you were impressed?”

He leaned in, lips brushing her ear. “Let’s just say… I’m very entertained.”

-

Have you ever tried this one 🙄

@i03jae @juicygirl4life @amourenha @wmyoons @deobitifull @yuyita-rosier @manuosorioh @juleso3o @delswine

[lyn31]

These fluff and pregnancy Zayne are so sweet and I love it! Can you do a continuation of the pregnancy connected to the part of where he stays home with reader finally! How he’s so sweet and attentive to reader throughout the days/nights (When he already is😭). That makes reader cry/very emotional in front him cuz she realizes how lucky she is and how much Zayne really loves her. Zayne comforts her and tells her how silly she is. Thank you I appreciate it.🫶🏻✨🥹

I was gonna say y'all are in the pregnancy brainrot but I feel like now I am as well 😭 Even when I write this I was like "Gosh this is too cute help *make it cuter*" Hopefully this is what you have in mind! 🫶🏻😂

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Lingers

Summary

A tender, slow-paced story of love, quiet devotion, and the quiet yet profound intimacy of daily life as you and Zayne prepare for the arrival of your child.

Ao3 link

My Masterlist ✨

Notes

Pairing: Zayne x MC/Reader Beware of the absolute sweetness!

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When you wake up, you feel a cool touch resting against your lower belly—not gripping, just there. A steady presence. The same coolness lingers against the back of your neck, his breath fanning lightly over your skin.

A glance at the nightstand tells you it’s already nine in the morning. It’s been a week since Zayne started his extended leave, and you’ve both settled into a routine of staying in bed a little longer than usual.

You try to shift, but even with the pillow supporting your stomach, an 'oof' slips out at the effort. Now in your third trimester, you can’t help but notice just how much you’ve grown. You know it will happen, of course, but knowing and actually experiencing it are two very different things.

“Zayne?” You glance back at him, reaching out to touch his cheek. He stirs slightly, leaning into your touch before his eyes flutter open.

He hums, nestling closer against your neck, his voice hoarse from sleep. “Something wrong?”

You shake your head, shifting again as much as you can. He notices immediately, his hand shifting from your belly to your waist, rubbing slow, soothing circles. “Uncomfortable?”

“A little,” you admit.

Without a word, he adjusts, propping himself up on one elbow as he shifts the pillow to better support your stomach. He watches you for a second, then smooths his palm over your belly again, as if checking for any tension. “Better?”

You nod, sighing softly as the weight on your body eases just a little. Zayne presses a light kiss to your shoulder, his lips cool yet comforting.

“Do you want to sleep a little longer?” he asks, his voice gentle, but you can already feel the way he’s watching you closely, making sure you’re okay.

You shake your head. “I think I’m up now.”

He hums in acknowledgment but doesn’t move away, his fingers continuing their slow, absentminded motions against your skin. A few quiet moments pass like this, the two of you cocooned in the warmth of the bed, before Zayne finally murmurs, “Are you hungry?”

Your stomach answers first, a soft grumble filling the quiet, and you huff, pressing your face into the pillow as he lets out a low chuckle.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He presses another kiss to your shoulder before sitting up. “Stay here. I’ll make breakfast.”

You pout slightly, reaching out to snag his wrist before he can leave the bed. “But you’re warm.”

Zayne raises a brow, amused. “Am I?”

“You are to me,” you grumble.

His lips twitch like he wants to smile, but instead, he leans down, brushing his lips against your forehead. “I’ll be quick.”

Zayne returns not long after, carrying a wooden breakfast tray, the same one he’s used every morning since his leave started, but that doesn’t stop you from staring at it like it’s ridiculous.

“Should I start expecting a menu next?” you say flatly.

Unbothered, he sets the tray on the nightstand first, then turns back to you. “Sit up.”

You sigh but let him help, not that you have much choice. He moves the pillows behind you again, propping you up so that your back is fully supported. Once you’re settled, he smooths his hands over your arms like he’s checking to make sure you’re comfortable before finally reaching for the tray.

He places it gently in front of you, adjusting its legs so it rests neatly on the bed. The scent of warm eggs, fruit, and something slightly sweet fills the air. You glance down—scrambled eggs with cheese, whole-grain toast, a side of sliced fruit, and a small bowl of yogurt with granola. Off to the side, a glass of what looks like a smoothie, pale green but blended smoothly enough that you can’t taste the spinach he definitely snuck in there.

Zayne settles beside you, his own plate in hand. “Let’s eat.”

You shake your head, huffing. “You really don’t have to do this every morning, you know.”

He gives you a pointed look. “I know.” Then, softer, “But I want to.”

That makes your chest ache a little. You don’t say anything else, just pick up your fork and take a bite. The eggs are still warm, fluffy with just the right amount of cheese melted in.

Zayne watches for a moment before nodding in approval and starting on his own plate.

For a while, the two of you eat in peaceful quiet, the occasional clink of utensils against plates the only thing breaking the quiet. It’s domestic in a way that feels so natural now, like this has always been your life together.

And maybe that’s why your chest aches yet again—because this feels too good, too right.

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

You sigh contentedly as you stretch, already anticipating the warmth of the bath. Zayne is, as always, by your side, his hands moving with practiced ease as he helps you out of your maternity clothes. By now, it’s routine—something you never have to ask for because he does it without hesitation. But today, you’re feeling a little mischievous, well more than usual anyway.

Just as his fingers move to unfasten the last bit of fabric, you press your hand over his. “Nope, you’re banned from bath duty today,” you announce, lifting your chin playfully. “I want to bathe by myself.”

Zayne pauses, then tilts his head slightly. “It’ll be easier with my help,” he reminds you, voice calm as ever.

You huff, shooting him a smirk. “It’ll also take longer with you around.”

His brow lifts just a fraction. “And why is that?”

You give him a knowing look. “Oh, you know why.”

“I don’t, actually.” His tone is perfectly polite, but you can see the way he presses his lips together, obviously holding back a smile.

You narrow your eyes at him. “I don't think playing innocent will save you.”

He hums, unimpressed by your accusation, but doesn’t deny it. Instead, his gaze flickers lower, scanning you in that thoughtful way he does when he’s about to make a point. Then, with perfect seriousness, he says, “I don’t think you can even reach your own legs.”

You gasp in dramatic offense. “The audacity.”

Zayne doesn’t even blink.

“If I could, I’d stomp on your foot right now.”

“Mm.” He nods, like he’s truly considering it. “Good thing you can’t, then.”

You scoff and turn away, nose in the air, though the effect is probably lost considering how slow and careful you have to be while moving. Behind you, Zayne chuckles, and before you can take another step, his arms slip around you from behind, hands resting over the swell of your belly.

“I don’t remember you complaining before,” he murmurs, his cool lips pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder.

Warmth spreads through you—not just from his touch, but from the way he still looks at you, like you’re everything to him, even now, with all the changes in your body. Like he’s still crazy about you, just the same as before.

You laugh, tilting your head to the side so you can meet his eyes. “That’s different.”

“Is it?” He kisses your shoulder again before you can answer.

You don’t argue, simply catch his lips in a quick, soft kiss. You sigh dramatically, placing your hand over his. “Alright, dear.” You squeeze his fingers before turning in his hold. “Come on, then.”

Zayne exhales lightly, as if this outcome is obvious from the start. “That was short-lived.”

You roll your eyes. “And here I thought you were smart enough to know when I’m messing with you.”

Zayne huffs a quiet laugh, his grip on your waist steady. “You’re a menace.”

“And yet, you never stop indulging me.” You smile, tilting your head. “What does that say about you?”

“That I know exactly what you want.” His voice is calm, but the glint in his eyes is unmistakable.

He presses another kiss to your shoulder, then—without another word—takes your hand and leads you toward the bathroom.

You don’t hesitate, a smile already tugging at your lips. You never really wanted to bathe alone, anyway.

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

Zayne wraps a towel around you, his touch gentle as he pats away any lingering droplets. He doesn’t rush or dry you off in the most efficient way possible—he takes his time, smoothing his hands over your shoulders, down your arms, over the curve of your belly. It’s practical, yes, but there’s something so tender in the way he does it, like he’s memorizing every inch of you.

You hum softly, stretching your arms a little. “At this rate, I should start tipping you.”

Zayne huffs a quiet laugh, kneeling down as he carefully helps you step into your underwear. “Your presence is payment enough.”

You snort. “That was smooth.”

His gaze lifts, calm as ever. “I meant it.”

“Very dramatic of you, husband,” you tease, but your voice comes out softer than you expected.

He doesn’t argue, simply stands and grabs the softest maternity dress you own, holding it open for you. You slip your arms through the sleeves, letting him pull it over your head. His fingers brush your skin as he adjusts the fabric, smoothing it over your belly. He lingers there, both hands resting over the swell, his thumbs absently tracing small circles.

Your breath catches for a moment. It’s not like this is new—Zayne has been touching you with the same quiet adoration since the beginning—but something about it gets you right in the chest.

His cool lips press against your forehead, lingering. “Comfortable?”

You nod, swallowing past the sudden tightness in your throat.

He watches you, eyes sharp as ever. “You’re looking at me like you have something to say.”

You do. But you just shake your head and smile, pressing your hands over his. “Just thinking about how much I love you.”

Zayne hums, squeezing your fingers lightly. “That makes two of us.”

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

The afternoon passes in the kind of quiet comfort that has become routine now. The two of you aren’t doing anything particularly special—just existing together, moving through the day with ease—somehow, it still feels like something worth treasuring.

You’re settled on the couch, legs stretched out in front of you, pillows stacked behind your back for support. Zayne is next to you, flipping through a medical journal, but you can tell he’s still keeping an eye on you. He always is.

Reaching for your water, you realize it’s just beyond your grasp. You barely shift forward when, without even looking up from his reading, Zayne reaches over and pushes the glass closer to you.

You pause, glancing at him. “You’re really on autopilot at this point, huh?”

“Hm?” He finally lifts his gaze.

You pick up the glass. “You didn’t even look. Just moved it like it was instinct.”

Zayne tilts his head slightly, as if he doesn’t see why that’s worth pointing out. “You needed it.”

You shake your head, amused, and take a slow sip.

Later, when the two of you return from a short grocery run—you still insist on doing them—Zayne grabs all the bags before you even get the chance to reach for one.

“Seriously?” You huff, crossing your arms. “I can at least carry one.”

Zayne merely glances at you, then keeps walking toward the kitchen, entirely unmoved.

You narrow your eyes at his back. “I’m not made of glass, you know.”

“Mm.” He hums as he sets the bags down, completely ignoring your protest.

You roll your eyes, but warmth spreads through you all the same. He’s always been like this—so effortlessly attentive.

By the time you’re back on the couch, your legs are starting to feel a little sore, the weight of the day settling in. You stretch them out, flexing your ankles absently. Before you can say anything, Zayne is already kneeling beside you, pushing up the hem of your dress just enough to reach your calves.

His hands move with practiced ease, cool palms smoothing over your skin as his thumbs press into the muscle, kneading slow, deliberate circles.

You sigh, sinking deeper into the cushions. “You know, I don’t even have to ask anymore.”

Zayne glances up briefly, the corners of his lips barely tilting. “Did you ever have to?”

You laugh softly, reaching down to brush your fingers through his hair. “No. I guess not.”

He presses a light kiss to your knee before continuing his massage, as if to prove his point.

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

The evening air is cool, the room dimly lit, casting everything in a soft, golden glow. You’re tucked into bed, comfortably warm beneath the blankets, with Zayne behind you, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. His other hand rests against your belly, cool against your skin even through the fabric of your nightgown.

You’re already drifting, caught in that hazy space between wakefulness and sleep, when Zayne shifts slightly. He tucks the pillow better beneath your belly, adjusting things without thinking, the same way he does every night. Then his hand finds its way back to you, smoothing over your stomach in slow, absentminded strokes.

You shift slightly, pressing back against him, feeling the steady, reassuring weight of his arm around you. Your fingers brush over his where they rest against you, tracing absent patterns as your breathing evens out.

And then it settles in—that this is routine. That his care is constant, unwavering, something you never have to ask for because he just knows. Something about that realization tugs at you, something warm and fragile all at once.

Your throat tightens.

You don’t know why it hits you now.

Maybe it’s the quiet. The way his presence surrounds you so completely. The steady weight of his hand, instinctive, like it belongs there. Maybe it’s just hormones.

He does this every night.

He tucks you in just right. He makes sure you're warm, but not too warm. He keeps his hand on you, as if protecting you even in sleep.

Like he belongs here. Like you belong here.

Tears burn at your eyes before you can stop them.

Oh, no.

You inhale sharply, blinking fast, but it’s no use. The realization—the sheer depth of how much he loves you, how effortlessly he cares for you—comes crashing down, quiet but undeniable.

A sniffle escapes before you can swallow it down.

You squeeze your eyes shut. “No.”

Zayne stills. Then, a soft inhale. “Love?”

A pause. Then, amusement laces his voice. “No?”

You shake your head against the pillow, voice thick. “You’re being too sweet again.”

His chest moves in a silent chuckle, but he doesn’t tease you—not this time. Instead, he shifts closer, pressing a kiss against the back of your head, then lower, to your shoulder. “Is that so?” His voice is quiet, warm, meant only for you.

You sniffle harder. “Yes.”

Another kiss, this time against the side of your neck. “And what exactly did I do?”

You groan, hiding your face against the pillow. “Just—this! All of this! You always take care of me, you always make sure I’m okay, even when I don’t ask—” Your voice wobbles, and another tear slips free. “You love me too much, it’s not fair.”

Zayne exhales, softly exasperated but infinitely patient. “I see,” he murmurs. “What a terrible thing. Having a husband who adores you.”

You sniffle again. “It is.”

He hums, entirely unconvinced. His arm tightens around you, pulling you even closer, as if that’s possible. His palm spreads over your stomach, a steady, protective weight. Steady circles over every part of you he can reach.

Slowly, he shifts, his chin coming to rest lightly against the top of your head, his cool breath stirring your hair. “I suppose there’s no helping it,” he says, the words a quiet rumble against you. “You’re stuck with me, after all.”

A shuddering breath escapes you, caught somewhere between a sob and a laugh. You reach down, curling your fingers over his where they rest against your stomach, squeezing tight. “Obviously.”

Zayne’s fingers curl slightly beneath yours, his touch warm despite the coolness of his skin. His palm lingers, steady and sure, anchoring you through the swell of your emotions. And just as you start to breathe through the tightness in your throat—

A small but distinct movement presses against his hand.

Zayne stills.

You do, too.

Then it happens again—a firm, unmistakable kick against his palm, strong enough that even in your haze of emotions, you can’t ignore it.

You let out a soft gasp.

Zayne, ever composed, presses his hand more firmly, waiting. A second later, another soft thump answers, almost like a response to his touch.

A quiet chuckle escapes him, low and warm. “I think they agree with me.”

Your throat tightens all over again. “What?”

His fingers trace slow, soothing patterns over your stomach, as if calming both you and the baby at once. Then, softer, more certain—“Looks like I’m not the only one who loves you.”

That does it.

A fresh wave of tears spills over. “Zayne,” you whimper.

“That’s not helping.”

He sighs, soft and indulgent, as he presses another kiss to the top of your head. “Yes, darling?”

Zayne huffs, amused, and you feel the subtle tilt of his head as he buries his nose against your hair. His palm shifts slightly, smoothing over your stomach once more. The baby responds again, another small but insistent nudge against his touch.

His thumb brushes gently over your skin, as if memorizing every movement beneath his hand. Then, with quiet finality—“They’re stubborn. Just like you.”

A watery laugh escapes you. “Then you’re doomed.”

His shoulders shake in silent amusement, his arm tightening around you just a little more.

And as another gentle kick presses into his palm, you feel the warmth of his voice against your hair—“Mm. I think I’ll survive.”

This time, when your eyes flutter shut, you drift off to the steady rhythm of his touch.

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Notes

How did these two request line up, are you guys sure you don't know each other 😂 but hey it's working out for me! (and I'm not talking about the previous req but this one after ahahaha) Thanks again for the cute request 🫶🏻 This is ended up connected ahaha either way, if we're going for chronological order here it is: (this is part 3) more like a snippet (smut) part 0 part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 (smut at the end)

[mapofthemazeinthemirror]

TXT tucking you in before leaving for a night schedule

Fluff, no warnings!

Please let me know which one is your favourite!

☆ gender neutral reader

Soobin

It takes Soobin longer than he would care to admit to leave the couch, pressing one last kiss to your face before pulling away - no wait, just one more - before untangling his arms from around you and getting to his feet. He glances back at you on his way to get his jacket and you look so lonely there by yourself now, you pout at each other. There’s just one more thing he has to do before he can put on his shoes and go. You think he’s coming back for another kiss while he puts on his jacket, but when he raises it, it comes down and over you. He tucks it around your shoulders and you slip your arms through the sleeves, wearing it back to front. It’s big enough on you to act as a blanket, bonus, it smells like him. He smiles down at you and strokes your hair, and now he really has to go because he’s getting a call from his driver who is downstairs waiting.

Yeonjun

You exit the bathroom, all warm from your shower, into your bedroom and notice something strange. Your pillowcase was always white, and now it’s black. Your attention shifts to your boyfriend who stands at the end of your bed, smiling at you. He’ll tuck you in, he says. You climb into bed, eyeing the pillow again. Wasn’t it white? It’s his shirt, Yeonjun tells you, so you can fall asleep imagining it’s his chest your head is laying on. His eyes have that sparkle, his grin wide, the way he always looks when he does something cheesy like this, as he pulls the covers up around you. You turn to kiss him, but he’s leaning over to your nightstand, the tv suddenly turning on with your favourite movie ready to play on the screen.

Beomgyu

He pulls his arm out from under you ever so carefully, retreating from the bed so slowly it would look as if he was moving in slow motion; the sheets sound so loud to him when he’s trying to be quiet. Ten minutes ago you were chatting together, until he was talking and getting no reply; you were out like a light. He had told you that you didn’t have to stay awake and keep him company until his schedule, but you had insisted on spending as much time with him as you could get. Now he has to leave, but you’re laying on top of the duvet and he won’t be here to keep you warm and he doesn’t want you to get cold and wake up. He tiptoes out of the room and dashes to the cupboard, retrieves the fluffiest blanket of all and comes quietly back to spread it gently over you. You look so peaceful and adorable that he wants to kiss your cheek goodbye but he won’t risk it, backing towards the door and, with one final look, turns out the light. He can’t wait to come home.

Taehyun

You always have a later dinner on the nights Taehyun has a schedule. He’s always said you don’t have to wait and eat when he does, but you insist on having dinner with him. When you’re done eating, you sit and chat for a while, until it’s time for him to head off to work. He offers to help you tidy up the dishes, but you tell him that you’re going to put them away and head to bed - you usually go to bed early on the nights Taehyun works because you tend to wake up when he comes home very late. Saying goodbye, he slips his shoes on at the door and then he’s gone. You busy yourself with the plates, cleaning and drying, so much quicker a job with only dishes for two, and just when you’ve closed them inside the cupboard, you hear the door unlocking again. You turn with a smile, asking what he’s forgotten. This, he says, and scoops you up in his arms with a laugh, your arms winding around his neck in surprise, and carries you towards the bedroom. With one hand he pulls the covers back, then slides you gently into bed. His eyes are warm as ever as he tucks you in, resting his forehead against yours before kissing you. He really has to go now, he tells you, but he’ll be back to perform his big spoon duties in a few hours.

Huening Kai

He starts out by bringing just one of the plushies from his bed, placing it beside you under the covers. But before he knows it, whether because he wants to drag this out and not leave yet or because of the way you smile and snuggle the toy against your face, he makes another trip and comes back with five more in his arms. He strategically places them - one on either side of your middle, one on either side of your legs, and one on the end of the bed, “standing guard”, he explains.

written by mapofthemazeinthemirror - do not repost my work in any form

[rinduo]

灰谷 竜胆 / Rindou Haitani

a ring, a night of intoxicated decision, and a morning full of surprises. what truly rings true for you?

wc. 3.6k — rewritten and resposting

RING TRUE

The sky blazed with an orange hue, as though the sun itself was burning in its final moments. From the balcony, you had the perfect view of the city below, the city awakens in a constellation of warm and neon lights, clustered like stars in an urban sky. The fresh air kissed your skin, carrying the distant hum of a city coming to life as night unfolded.

The quiet of the evening was broken by the soft click of the door lock, followed by the familiar chime of the door unlocking. From the balcony, you glanced toward the entrance through the glass window, but when nothing seemed out of the ordinary, your gaze drifted back to the city.

Then—a heavy thud, followed by a sharp clink. Your body tensed. The sound was odd, off. Next came the rustling of fabric, then a faint, uneven crunch—subtle, brittle, but impossible to place. The thuds continued—muted but firm, frequent enough to unsettle you. Maybe it wasn’t just curiosity that made you move, but something creeping closer to unease.

Silently, you stepped toward the kitchen, fingers curling around a glass bottle on the countertop. Just in case.

For a brief moment, you wondered if there was more than one person, but the expected chatter never followed—only the shuffle of unsteady movements. Then, cutting through the silence, a low, drawn-out groan.

Rindou stumbled into view, disheveled. His once neatly styled hair was a mess, strands sticking out as if he had run his fingers through it one too many times. His cardigan carelessly hangs from one shoulder, slipping dangerously as he trudges forward. His steps were slow and unhurried, his weight shifting oddly—like he was struggling to keep himself upright.

“Did you get into a fight—”

His glasses slip down the bridge of his nose, and with sluggish fingers, he barely catches them in time, setting them down carefully on the coffee table. Rindou barely makes it to the sofa before attempting to sit down. But as soon as he does, his perception is off, and he slips off the edge, landing with a heavy thud on the floor. He groans, staring up at the ceiling with a goofy, dazed expression.

You approach his side, having seen enough of his antics. You can’t just stand idly by while he makes a complete mess of himself. At first, it’s hard to tell—his eyes are always half-lidded, carrying the look of someone perpetually sleep-deprived. But tonight, they droop even more, as if he could drift off at any moment.

You try to pull him up by his arms, but he only pouts at you, refusing help. Instead, he goes completely limp, making himself impossibly heavy—like dead weight.

“You dolt!”

Before you can protest further, Rindou takes hold of your wrist and, with surprising strength, pulls you down onto him. Your free hand slams into the floor beside his head to keep yourself from collapsing on top of him.

The scent of alcohol hits your nose—not overpowering, but noticeable. It’s strange. This shouldn’t be happening. Rindou drinks like it’s water, any time of the day, and he always keeps his cool. If anyone can hold their liquor, it’s him. So why does he seem… so drunk?

Rindou giggles, the sound echoing around the apartment as he keeps you on top of him with an arm around your back. His other hand drapes over his eyes, his lips curling into a playful grin.

“Rindou, I can’t stay in this position forever. My arms are starting to kill me.”

Rindou grins—deviously. Without warning, he sits up, the sudden motion sending you stumbling backward. Before you can hit the floor, he pulls you between his legs as he squats, leaving both of you sitting on the floor like idiots—when the sofa was right there.

He lazily loops his arms around your figure, keeping you in place. Nuzzling into your neck, his warm breath fans across your skin, making you shiver. You almost lean away from the tickling sensation, but he tugs you back.

“Y/NNN…" His whine against your shoulder catches you off guard, making you tilt your head to look at him.

“I am desirable, too, aren’t I?” His breath tickles your ear, making you jolt in his arms. You’re on the verge of pushing his head away, but with the way he clings to you, you can’t bring yourself to do it.

“Mm. You are.” The words slip out almost automatically, but even you can hear the half-hearted lilt in your voice.

“You don’t sound sure about it.” He pouts, clicking his tongue dramatically. His arms tighten slightly around your torso, as if holding you just a little closer in a huff.

“How do I even answer that… without you thinking I like you?” Did you just confess your feelings? Well, at least he is drunk.

Rindou blinks, as if processing your words. But he’s drunk, right? The slight squint he makes, the tilt of his head—you assume he’s having trouble understanding you. Slowly, he reaches behind him, fumbling for the pockets of his cardigan. After a moment, he pulls out a small, purple velvet box, grinning as he holds it up for you to see. With a flick of his fingers, he opens it, revealing a dainty ring nestled inside.

“Wow. You got Koko to buy that?”

“No… I bought it, chose it.” His tone shifts slightly—playful, but with a hint of seriousness, as though he’s trying to make sure you understand the weight of the gesture.

“For what?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, just stares at you with a pout that deepens the more you scrutinize his face. Was it just you, or was he judging you for not figuring it out?

A minute passes before he mutters the words you aren’t sure you heard right. “Will you marry me?”

It’s as if all the words have left you. You’re frozen, unsure how to answer. The question hangs heavily in the air. You can’t tell if this is a joke or if there’s some deeper meaning behind it. How do you respond to something so serious, especially when he’s intoxicated? And if this is a prank, how do you explain it to him without making it awkward?

But as the silence stretches on, the tension thickens. Rindou slumps his forehead onto your shoulder, his shoulders sagging with a dejected sigh. You feel him sniffle, pulling you in closer inch by inch, almost as if he’s sulking

You exhale softly, feeling a little apologetic for keeping him waiting, but a small part of you can’t help but indulge in this moment, in the fantasy of it all.

“I’ll be in your care then, Rindou Haitani…” you whisper, barely tilting your head to kiss the crown of his head.

Rindou’s head shoots up immediately. In a flash, he pulls the ring from the box, takes your hand, and gently slides it onto your ring finger.

You can’t help but chuckle, watching him rub his thumb against the back of your hand, his eyes glued to the way the ring glistens in the light.

Somehow, you both end up asleep with your backs against the sofa, Rindou’s cardigan draped over you. Your head rests gently on his upper arm, nestled close to his shoulder. He bends his arm, cradling your head with his hand to keep it from tipping uncomfortably. His touch is soft, the slight pressure on your head grounding you without making you stir. It’s a quiet, tender gesture—a silent promise that he’s there, making sure you’re comfortable.

“I’ll return this to the box… later.” You think, eyeing the small velvet case on the coffee table.

You wake up, rubbing your eyes as the lingering haze of sleep clings to you. Something cool presses against your skin—a faint metallic sensation. Your fingers instinctively brush against it. The ring.

Right.

You jolt, the memory hitting you like a delayed punch. But before the panic fully settles in, another realization crashes over it, completely derailing your train of thought.

This… isn’t where you slept last night. You remember dozing off in the living room. It was dim, sure, but not this dim. If anything, the only rooms in this house that are this dark are the Haitani brothers’ bedrooms—both void of light, as if they’re allergic to it.

Which means…. Rindou must have carried you to his room while you were out cold. You push yourself upright, your mind scrambling to piece everything together. As your hand reaches for the blinds—another realization slams into you.

It’s morning.

The bright sunlight hits you like a punch to the face, temporarily blinding you. You squint, blinking rapidly as your vision adjusts. And then it clicks.

Not only Rindou isn’t in the room.

Then that means he’s already awake.

Is it too late to put the ring back in the box?

Your eyes dart around the room, panic rising, but before you can even begin to think of a plan—your gaze lands on something far worse.

A damp spot.

On the pillow.

…You drooled in your sleep.

And on Rindou’s pillow no less.

You scramble out of bed, hastily smoothing out the comforter and fluffing the rest of the pillows like it’ll somehow erase the shame. Then, as discreetly as possible, you rip that one pillowcase off, planning to throw it in the laundry before anyone notices.

Okay. Crisis one, handled.

Now onto the real problem.

You take a breath, steeling yourself. Find the box. Put the ring back. Salvage the plan.

…But where is the box?

With a quiet sigh, you begin your search. Your eyes scan the corners of the room, checking every possible spot. His closet? Empty. Under the bed? Nothing. It’s not on the nightstand either.You moved on to his drawers, pulling them open one by one, running your fingers along the edges, hoping to feel the familiar shape of the small purple velvet box.

You move on to the DVD and CD shelves next, running your fingers along the spines of the cases, hoping to find something misplaced. Nothing. Frustration builds in your chest as you pull open another drawer, then another, your hands brushing over items that have absolutely nothing to do with the task at hand.

Stepping back, you rub your temples, exhaling sharply. Why is it so hard to find one little box in this place?

Peeking outside Rindou’s door, you cautiously scan the living room. There he is, up and about, his back to you as he focuses on lifting weights. His muscles ripple with each controlled movement, his headphones blocking out everything else as he pushes through his set. Oblivious to your quiet search. Good, you think, a small spark of hope igniting. You can still make this work.

You silently creep into the living room, every step calculated and light as air. The familiar scent of his cologne lingers in the air, and the soft clink of weights fills the room. You move with purpose, eyes darting around, trying to find any sign of the box. His headphones are your advantage right now. As long as he doesn’t hear you, you have time to search.

The DJ booth is your first target. You lean over it, peeking behind, scanning the countertop and beneath it. Nothing. A small sigh escapes your lips, but you quickly swallow it, glancing cautiously toward the TV. It’s too close to where Rindou is working out, so you can only observe it from a distance. Getting any closer would risk making a sound that might catch his attention. No, you need to be careful.

You slide your hand across the gaps below the couch, praying the box might’ve slipped between the cushions. No luck. Kneeling, you gently lift the coffee table’s edge, peeking underneath. Again, nothing. Frustration bubbles up inside you, but you push it down, focusing on the task at hand.

Your eyes dart over to plastic goods. There’s a glimmer of hope, and you can’t resist. You reach inside, rifling through the plastic and boxes, searching for any sign of the velvet box. The seconds tick by, each one dragging, and yet, still no box. Where did he put it?

You bite your lip, frustration bubbling up inside you. You try to steady your breath, refusing to let the growing panic seep through. The last thing you want is for him to see how worried you are—especially when everything is such a mess right now.

The soft clink of weights signals that he’s wrapping up his set. You freeze, eyes darting nervously to his back. His muscles are tense, his body focused, but all you can think about is how quiet it’s become despite the music blasting in his ears—and leaking out of the headphones.

You give up, sucking in a breath. That’s when you walk right up to him and tug at his shirt. A sudden shift, and his head snaps toward you. His eyes narrow, half-questioning, half-smirking.

“Find something interesting, Y/N?” he teases, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

You bite your lip, trying to steady yourself as you fiddle with the ring in your hands. With a hesitant breath, you finally show it to him, your palms open. “This ring is yours, right? You were bragging about it last night…” You can’t help the awkwardness creeping into your voice. “It sorta… fell from its box.”

“I did? Did it? His brow arches, the smirk on his lips only growing wider as he watches your nerves unravel.

“No… It’s yours… Last night… You..” You try to make up an excuse, but to no avail, your mind is going blank as he further stares at you.

“But, how could that be mine? With that small ring, isn’t that more of yours?”

You freeze, the words catching in your throat. His teasing tone makes your mind scramble for a way out of this mess. “No… It’s yours…” You say weakly, but your voice falters. “Last night… You…”

Your mind goes completely blank, every coherent thought slipping away as his gaze locks onto you, the playful amusement in his eyes making your heart race. You try to come up with something—anything—to make sense of this, but to no avail.

Rindou only watches you an infuriatingly calm smirk, waiting for your next words.

“Well, did I make you wear it? So… wear it.” Rindou shrugs nonchalantly, his voice light, almost taunting. But the suggestion hangs in the air, and you can feel the heat rise in your face, cheeks burning at the implication.

Your eyes widen in disbelief at his words, and you shake your head vehemently, as if the very thought of it could somehow reverse the situation. As much as you want to explain the significance of the ring, you’re not about to be the one to spill the beans. The last thing you need is for him to catch on and make this even more awkward than it already is.

“What should I even do with this ring? No one here has the same size as your finger. Should I just throw it away?” His voice lingers in the air, carrying a hint of mockery and, maybe, a little bit of a threat as he starts walking toward the trash can.

Before your brain can even process, you’re already dashing toward him, grabbing his arm with a mix of panic and urgency. “W-Wait… that’s too wasteful!” The words tumble out before you even think about them.

“Then wear it.”

Your mind races, and the words tumble out of your mouth, half in disbelief, half in frustration. “I can’t.”

Rindou’s gaze softens just slightly, his usual smirk fading into something that almost resembles concern. “Just wear it,” he repeats, his tone light but with an undercurrent of seriousness that makes it sound less like a joke and more like a quiet demand. “There’s nothing wrong with it, right? It’s not cursed or anything.”

You inwardly groan, your mind screaming, It kind of is. His proposal might be completely casual, but the weight of the situation is anything but light. The ring… it’s tied to something much bigger than he realizes, and Rindou is still blissfully unaware.

“Don’t you remember what the ring is for? For whom it’s meant?” You try to hint, your heart pounding as you push the words out, but Rindou doesn’t catch on. His response is quick, too quick, as if he hadn’t even thought about it before.

“No,” he answers, and his pout deepens as he looks down at you with a mix of confusion and amusement. “Just wear it.”

You huff in frustration, flipping through your thoughts. There’s no way out of this. With a reluctant sigh, you pull the ring from his hand and, without much thought, start to slide it onto your ring finger—the finger where he placed it last night.

But as you do, something about it feels… off. You pause, second-guessing yourself. Does it have to be on the ring finger? You’ve always heard that rings placed there carry certain connotations—romantic, serious, a commitment of sorts. You remember how Rindou, in his intoxicated state, had carefully slid it onto your ring finger last night. At the time, you’d figured it was just a drunken mix-up, but now that you’re the one doing it, a strange sense of unease washes over you. Why did he choose that finger? It’s a small thing, but for some reason, it feels… significant. You quickly transfer it to your index finger, hoping to shake off the discomfort.

Before you can even settle it there, Rindou grabs your wrist. The sudden action throws you off, your instinct shifting to fight or flight mode. You jerk your hand away, but his grip tightens, tugging you toward him. Panic surges as you struggle to break free, trying to pull your hand back, but Rindou’s grip only tightens. It’s clear he’s not letting you go.

It’s a strange, silent wrestling match—one where neither of you is willing to give an inch. You fight against his hold, but with every tug, you end up closer to him.

It’s not just close anymore—he spins you around, your back slamming flush against his chest. You squirm and try to wriggle free, but he pins you between the glass pane of his floor-to-ceiling window and him. You immediately freeze, breath hitching as his arms tighten around you.

“Rindou, you reek of sweat! You’re making me wet with your sweat!” You exclaim, trying to break free from his hold one more time.

“Bear with it for a second,” he whispers too closely, his breath warm against your ear. His tone is serious, but also soft. He’s trying to keep your hand steady while you keep moving it away from him. Surprisingly, you still have the energy to fight back, even though he has you pinned.

You can barely fight back, overwhelmed with the proximity, the quickened beat of his heart against your spine, and the warmth of his body pressing against yours—save the cold from his sweat. His scent makes you limp, and it’s unfair.

Finally, with a calm precision, he slides the ring back onto your ring finger. His fingers intertwine with yours, the weight of the ring settling perfectly in place.

“It looks better that way.”

You think you are being subtle.

You move carefully, rifling through plastic bags, fingers ghosting over surfaces like you’re not sure where to look but hoping you’ll find it anyway. What are you looking for anyway that you had to tiptoe around him? But he saw everything. Through the reflection in the glass, he caught the way your eyes dart, the hesitation in your step.

He did not expect you’d come up to him with the ring in hand.

‘’Oh?’’

He kind of get the gist of it. It’s a bit amusing to watch the way you questioned that ring—even lying by any means.

He wasn’t that drunk. Tipsy, sure. Loose-limbed and maybe a little too honest. But not enough to forget the way he’d slid that ring onto your finger. He’d wanted you to notice. To understand. To make you think. He’d wanted it to be clear—just in case you weren’t picking up on the hints.

But you hadn't. Not really. You brushed it off as some drunken accident, a slip of the hand. And that? That was almost insulting.

He had meant every second of it. He put the ring on your fourth finger on purpose. Not because he was drunk, not because he slipped—but because he wanted to see. Because for all the times you’ve tested him, teasing, toeing the line but never daring to cross—this time it’s his turn to make you sweat it out.

And now, you’re backpedaling. You don’t really play fair.

The silent denial, the shifting of the ring, the way you refuses to meet his gaze—it’s almost too good. But he’s patient. He lasted this long, hasn’t he?

So, fine. He’ll wait a little longer.

He doesn’t mind throwing more bait, watching you squirm, upping the stakes with ridiculous attempts just to see how far you’ll run before you hit a wall; how you’ll keep dodging. Two can play the game.

You can’t have it both ways forever.

You’ve been so cautious, always dancing around the edge— careful not to fall, while he’s already taken the plunge. But he’s not above reaching out—grabbing your wrist—pulling you under with him.

So, what’s it going to be? Will you keep fighting? Or are you finally going to sink? You really have the knack for making him impatient. But nothing tastes sweeter other than finally having you in his arms, possibly with a veil over your head.

please do not copy, repost, modify, translate, screenshot or share my works by any means on other platforms. thank you!

[xetlynn]

an artists muse- a viktor fic.

thirteen.

[twelve] [the end]

and both of them want the other to stay.

Staring in the mirror as your heart beats against your chest anxiously. Anxious but also hopeful as you wonder about the day ahead of you. Your fingers play with the ends of your black button up shirt that matches the slightly tight slacks that you bought last minute. As you had completely forgotten about the dress code until Ekko said something. 

The only pop of brightness being on your face with the glittery gold eyeshadow upon your eyelids. Along with your light pink gloss that was kind of sticky as you pop your lips every now and then. A body comes up next to you and you force a smile, wiping the front of your shirt down. “Ready?” You beam with a false positive tone. Something that’s been so… frequent. Consistent, lately. Maybe you've been like this forever. 

No one’s that happy. Well, that’s what everyone says but at some points in your life it was the truth. And nothing but the truth. “Mm, to get made fun of? For sure. But I’m so excited to see your masterpiece you’ve somehow hid from everyone.” Gert nudges you with their shoulder before checking herself out in your mirror. 

The door slams open, Powder tripping into the dorm room with sweat dripping down her forehead. “I can’t find my bracelet!” She squeals and you raise a brow. “The one on your wrist?” You cock your head to the side and she glances down at her skin and she closes her eyes. Collapsing to the ground. “I’ve been looking for this thing for thirty minutes.” She grumbles causing you and Gert to laugh loudly. 

She stands back up and eyes the two of you suddenly with a straight face. The two of you stiffen. “You guys look hot…” She murmurs, and you giggle, awing at her words. “You are so pretty, Pow!” You exclaim, motioning to her outfit. A white blouse with a black pencil skirt. The dress code was white for guests. Black for the artists. It was a very last minute thing but a very cute concept. 

“Ugh, you’re going to make me blush.” Powder waves you away, pretending to be bashful. Gert scrunches her nose with a small chuckle. “We should get heading to the building, I got a text from Mylo saying they’re already there.” She speaks up and the two of you raise a brow at her. Gert rolls her eyes. “Knock it off, you know we’ve been texting a little bit.” She shoves you into Powder. 

“Losers! We’re here!” You wave your arm in the air dramatically, feeling the cold breeze hit your face as your legs quickly move beneath you. Carrying you towards the large building with your two friends that all clinged onto one another. Claggor, Mylo and Ekko turn to see you three, hugging themselves as they shiver. “We’re going to be late, [Name]. Let’s go!” Ekko ignores your words and your jaw slacks open. “Why are you only acknowledging me, Gert’s gonna be late as well.” You pout your lips. 

“It’s your fault and I know it, let’s go!” He grits his teeth against the cold, grabbing the both of you and hurrying inside. Not without blowing a kiss to his girlfriend in the process. She snickers, now in between her older brothers. Claggor shakes his head. “They still have ten minutes.” He informs the blue-haired girl and she gazes up to him. “I know my boyfriend. Trust me, I know.” She leans into the bigger man. He wraps his arms around his sister. 

“C’mon, there’s a guest entrance where we can warm up.” Claggor leads the way, Mylo jogs ahead of them. “What are you doing?” Powder calls after him. “I’m cold! I’m not gonna walk at that slow, turtle pace like you two!” He shouts. 

And as they wait in line, buying their tickets as well as flowers for their friends, four bodies make their way over to them. Violet reaches over her little sister, snatching the bouquet of flowers in her hands. Powder’s face drops and she goes to lecture the person who did it but stops as she realizes who it is. 

Violet roars into laughter, teasing the girl who’s face turns a bright red. “Oh, you’re so irritating!” Powder takes the bouquet back, gently shoving Vi who goes back to standing beside her girlfriend. “Yeah. yeah. When do we go into the room?” Vi asks, stuffing her hands into her pockets. “Five minutes.” Claggor answers. 

“Why are you guys here?” Powder questions, her eyebrows furrowed at the four. Do they know people inside? Violet wouldn’t come just for [Name] nor Ekko. As close as they used to be as children they don’t speak much anymore. Either they know other people or they’re here with Viktor. Something only Powder was told about in detail. She knows how close these four are with the man that somehow has [Name] wrapped around his finger. 

“Flyers are all around campus. Can’t we appreciate art like our peers around us?” Vi seems defensive with her answer. Caitlyn lets out a breath through her nose. “Right…? Where’s your fifth? The one with the cane?” Powder folds her arms, leaning on one leg. “Our fifth?” And now Vi just seems dumb as she attempts to act oblivious. 

“Viktor wasn’t at his dorm, we assumed he’d be here.” Jayce butts into the conversation now. “He isn’t though, now we just decided to stay. See the art and judge everything.” He finishes. Powder still isn’t truly convinced but before she can say anything else Mylo speaks. “You want to see [Name]’s art too? Bitch has been hiding it from us like it’s some top secret. You haven’t heard anything about it, have you?” He quizzes them, pointing at all four of them. 

Mel and Caitlyn snicker, shaking their heads ‘no.’ “She’s keeping it a secret?” Jayce asks. 

“Yeah, I bet it’s not even that good. Acting all mysterious for no reason.” Mylo grunts, facing away from the group. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, My.” Powder sighs. “The doors are open, we can finally see what it is.” She points to the two people that look like professors standing by the heavy doors. 

“Oh, I’m so seeing what’s been taking up her time that’s used to usually bake for me on Friday’s.” Mylo stomps past the professors, quietly muttering for a hello to them. A glare is stuck across his face as he scans the room through all the sculptures for your specific style. But it quickly falls once he sees Gert beside her own art piece talking with Ekko and some other guy… Jealousy beats in his chest, he tries to swallow it down. 

He doesn’t even catch himself heading towards them, his heart racing. Someone stands in front of him, the girl he was originally searching for. “Wanna see my sculpture now?” You grin, cheesing ear to ear as you know he’s feeling quite envious right now. And you feel like being an asshole to your close friend. He stands on his tiptoes as he tries to peak over you but you lean your head in the way. 

“I asked you a question Mylooo!” You sing, grabbing his hand and dragging him away. His mouth opens to mutter something but nothing comes out. “Yeah, sure.” He says in a distracted tone that was purposely disregarded. 

The others were quickly behind the two of you, you notice the group talking behind you so you stop. “Vi? What are you guys doing here!?” You inquire with a smile laced upon your lips. “They say they’re here to appreciate their peers' art.” Powder chimes in with a smart ass tone. Vi gave her a look immediately. 

“Yeah, aha… We noticed the flyers and I remembered you did sculpting. Had to come support.” Violet lies and you knew she was but you didn’t comment on it. “Well, I hope you enjoy what you see! Come find me when you see mine! Just remembered I have to go talk to my professor, see ya!” You found yourself growing nervous at the sight of Viktor’s friends. Almost embarrassed. You chirp a swift goodbye, letting go of Mylo and hurriedly walking away from the group. 

You wished you had asked them where Viktor was but in the same breath that would’ve been horrible. Doing it in front of everyone. You’d get teased for days by Powder. 

The group all look at one another, sort of shrugging your behavior off. All now searching for your sculpture. 

You genuinely did have to talk to your professor, that part wasn’t a lie but it was definitely an excuse to get away from the group. 

The seven search through each note, waiting until they spot your initials or your name. It was taking too long, anticipation filling their every nerve. Powder got too annoyed and decided to separate from the group, heading to her boyfriend and just leeching onto him. He had already shown her his sculpture. 

“Is that her initials?” Mel points to the paper in front of a rather large sculpture, it was almost teasing the others because of what the creation was. It took them this long to spot it as well. It felt like a slap to the face. 

Mylo lets out a snort, covering his mouth. “I should’ve guessed.” He admires his friend’s work. Jayce and Vi stand beside one another with knowing smiles. Claggor presses his lips together tightly as Mel and Caitlyn awe and coo at it. Mel picks up the paper that explains the muse. The others hurdled around her as they read it. 

“What are you guys reading?” A voice startles them, Mel instantly placing the paper back down on the table. All of them stand in front of the sculpture. Hiding it from him. Do they know why they’re hiding it? Not really. “Oh heyyy Viktor!” Jayce drags out his words, fear adorning his face along with the others that stand on either side of him. “Hi, Jayce.” Viktor eyes him up and down, glancing at the five other figures. 

“Oh my gosh, is that Gert’s sculpture, we should go see that guys.” Mylo points to a random area in the room. The others gasp, even though the four do not have a single clue who Gert is. Going along with the shorter boy’s words. “Yeah, we definitely should.” Caitlyn encourages, pushing her girlfriend ahead. All of them scurrying away like blind mice. 

Viktor watches them with a scrunched expression, rolling his eyes and looking ahead at what they were hiding. And once his eyes land on it his mouth opens. Eyes dilating at the sight before him. 

“Your sculpture seems to be quite popular tonight…” Your professor softly speaks, bowing their head over to your sculpture. You let out a small gasp, your gaze locked on his figure that stood alone in front of what you made. “He seems awfully familiar.” They whisper before stepping away from you. 

You lift your shoulders, shimmying them slightly to shake away the anxiety that grew. Carefully walking to him. You can hear everyone’s chatter around you. Every noise echoing off the tall walls of the gymnasium. “Do you… like it?” You heard yourself speak but you don’t actually understand how you’re doing it. His focus doesn’t turn to you. Stuck on what’s in front of him. 

“I don’t know if I got your nose quite right. I had to go off memory though so, you get what you get I guess. Did you feel me staring at you in class? Cause that’s like all I did-” Your voice is cut off by a stifled laugh coming from the boy beside you. “What?” You worriedly ask. “Did I weird you out?” You tilt your head and he finally looks over at you.

Smiling, speechless. “You… are something.” He huffs, running a hand through his hair. “I’m your muse?” He changes the subject and you purse out your lips. “I think you always have been.” You answer, going up to your sculpture, touching the copy of Viktor’s face that was partially covered by a crescent moon. All the imperfections of the moon perfectly sculptured. The craters and bumps that showed. 

“You and the moon. The way you talked about the moon, putting it into perspective for me. How you can talk about it is how I can talk and feel about you.” You avoid his gaze. Your note that explained your muse was much more simplified to how you actually felt. He knew that too as you seemed to be holding back even now. 

“How the moon is lit by the sun, getting to see its imperfections. The sun doesn’t care, doesn’t see it as imperfections. Still shining brightly upon it. The moon has its dark side, something the sun never truly gets to see. No matter how hard it tries. But from earth… you can. If you try hard enough.” You explain, loud enough for Viktor to hear. 

“I always thought of you as my sun. I think you might be my Earth though.” You admit to him. “I thought the sun was what motivated the moon. But it’s the Earth, the gravitational pull that keeps it stuck around. Not caring for the brightness or the dark. They need one another. Whether they’d like to admit it or not.” You finally turn to face him. His face was in a softened expression as he limped toward you. Taking your hands. Dropping his cane. 

Your eyes widened and you wanted to drop down to get it but he stopped you. It didn’t work though as you swiftly took it. He unexpectedly pulls you to a quiet section of the gym away from others, he forces you to lean the cane onto the wall. You were more worried about it than its owner who needed it.

“That was either the corniest, cheesiest thing anyone has ever said or the most romantic thing said to me.” Viktor teases you and your teeth bare as you make a face, ultimately agreeing with him. “Yeah, it definitely was.” You pick at your bottom lip awkwardly. 

“You’re my moon. If we’re talking about this- seriously, I used to think of you as my sun. Perfectly no matter what. I’m filled with imperfections but I never thought the same for you. I still don’t.” He informs you and you grin up at him. “Why’d you stop speaking to me for so long then. I mean I understand, I deserved it no doubt. I just, if you felt that way for me..?” You question him, your hands loosen, nervous that he’s going to want to let go but he grips tighter, his thumb gently wiping back and forth over your knuckles. 

“I was scared that the one person I thought could never do anything wrong thought of me the way everyone else did when I was younger. When those messages were sent years ago. My heart sank and I was devastated. I should’ve let you explain but I was blinded by a pain I’ve never felt before.” His voice broke just thinking back to that time of your lives and the guilt still washing over you.

“And I then met you– again, you felt familiar and I enjoyed your company. I enjoyed your presence and everything about it. To find out that you were the person who hurt me so deeply. Who made it so hard for me to trust people again. I needed the time to process it all.” Viktor was sincere with his words. You listened intently. 

“During the time I had. I realized that you were willing to fight still. To wait for me. You never stopped thinking about what happened. someone who truly intended to hurt me would never do that. They also wouldn’t sculpt my face by memory.” He reminds you and you let out a small giggle. “I also realized I was utterly, limitlessly and irrevocably in love with you.” Viktor declares. 

“Talk about corny.” You raise your brows but you can’t hide the tears that weld in your eyes. He hums. “It was quite corny… but it is the truth.” He quiets and you stare at him. Your eyes travel all around his face. You bit the inside of your cheeks, thinking. Your mind is spiraling on what to say. This is all you’ve ever wanted. This was never what you expected though. Especially tonight. 

And as you pick your own confession two arms wrap around the both of you. “You two seem to be friendly again!” Jayce proudly states, squishing the two of you together. “Yeah…” You nod your head. Violet clapped her hands excitedly but Mel and Caitlyn both pinch the bridges of their noses. “You two are idiots.” Caitlyn grumbles. 

“What?” Jayce and Violet falter and you smile over at Viktor’s annoyed face. “Let’s go.” Mel grabs her boyfriend by his shirt and he’s still confused, repeatedly asking what until his girlfriend whispers in his ear.

His face drops and his head snaps over to the two who were now walking back to your sculpture. “I’m such a dumbass!” He cries. 

The rest of the night, you spend with everyone. Of course looking over to Viktor numerous times throughout the night as each of your friends seemed to have been taking turns pulling you further and further away from him.

You mouthed an apology and that you’ll talk later as you got separated. He shrugged his shoulders, telling you it was alright.

Inside though… it was far from alright. He needed you near him. To finish that conversation from before. Something about it just didn’t feel… done. 

Viktor finds himself sitting outside upon a stone bench that the college had recently put in. He leans back, staring up at the sky. The clouds covered the one thing he was hoping to see. His cane rests between his legs. It was cold outside but unlike his friends he had brought a jacket. His nose still felt like ice nonetheless. 

You noticed Viktor missing from the group. Excusing yourself from the conversation you were in the middle of you walked to the halls first. Only seeing a couple eating each others faces and three people sitting on the ground.

You then go outside, the doors loudly opening as you push them against the wind. It almost knocked the air out of you as you stepped out.

You wandered for a little bit until you spot him. Sitting alone and staring at the cloudy, dark sky that was still brightly lit by the moon.

“Out here all alone?” You plop down beside him and he looks at you, confused on why you’re out here. “Shouldn’t you be with everyone else?” 

“I could ask you the same thing.” You lean your head onto his shoulder, he smiles down at you before looking back up to the sky.

And to his surprise the clouds moved to reveal what he had been wishing to see. 

“Mm, it got stuffy in there. Wanted some fresh air.” He mumbles. “Makes sense.” 

You closed your eyes, letting this moment sink in. Hearing the sounds of the wind blow against the trees. Viktor’s calm breathing. And your own heartbeat that felt like it was going to explode with giddiness.

You ignored the coldness that was quickly covering around you. Goosebumps erupting throughout your skin. 

“I love you too, I hope you know that.” You suddenly say, cutting through the comfortable silence. A smile ghosts his lips. “I know.” He assures you.

THE END! teehee.

taglist:

@policedeer @ang3lz-lov3 @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @confusedgemposts @corpsepies @almostdrowningdown @obittwo @ren-ni @donnie-is-here @urmommt @julia-lestrade @up-l4te-4t-n1ght

[atinycafe]

so I found out that I'm the giggly, wobbly (wobbly as in i literally cannot walk for shit BAHAHISNFKXDN), but also quiet drunk from when i drank a little too much one night and I was wondering how ateez would handle a drunk like that bcs I can't stop thinking about it 🤭

ATZ WITH UNUSUALLY CALM DRUNK READER — headcanons

pairing: ateez x drunk!reader genre: fluff wrd cnt: 2.0k author's note: SEDRTFYGUKH BE CAREFUL GIRL, funny how my most popular post is about reader being drunk but i dont even drink alcohol irl, aniwayys i feel like i fucked up your ask but hope you like it still ⸂⸂⸜(രᴗര๑)⸝⸃⸃ also why is wooyo such a hater in this post, im living for it masterlist

　　○˳　　　　　　hongjoong

you feel a gentle hand on your thigh and you glance over to see hongjoong beside you, his worried eyes peering through the kohl makeup. he moves his hand from your thigh to the back of your head, caressing the back of your neck, his fingers tangling with the clasp of your necklace.

"you okay there, baby?" his soothing voice reaches your ear, even amidst the booming bass playing in the club.

"mmhm," you nod simply, the soft buzz of alcohol making your thoughts feel like they're moving in slow motion. you nuzzle your face against his shoulder, feeling sleepiness creeping in, making you hesitant to speak.

"you're usually… louder," he asks, noticing how you're staring blankly ahead. confused, you blink slowly, not fully processing his words, your mouth slightly agape. hongjoong brings a hand up to gently close your mouth, his thumb gliding over your glossy lips.

"… and you're so cute," you mumble, and hongjoong is taken aback, a rosy hue appearing on his cheeks. he chuckles in disbelief before leaning in for a sweet, small kiss.

"you think i'm cute?" he chuckles, gently placing his palm against your cheek, his eyes crinkling with delight as he catches your fleeting gaze. you nod quietly, letting your hand rest on his thigh as you slowly trace a path up to his face, before leaning in to plant another kiss on his lips, "nah baby you're the cutest."

　　○˳　　　　　　seonghwa

"getting shy already?" seonghwa whispers in your ear, pulling you closer by the belt of your low-rise jeans. you've been dancing with him for a few minutes now; it's become your usual thing whenever you're both at the club. you always look forward to dancing with him, but tonight, you've had a bit too much to drink, and now you're seeking solace, hiding your face in his chest.

"hwa, 'm tired i wanna sit," you say, looping your arms around his neck, bringing him closer as you lean on him for support. he responds by holding you even tighter, his hand sneaking around your waist.

"baby's not feeling it tonight? let's get you somewhere more silent," he suggests, gently guiding you through the moving bodies. finally, you settle in a more secluded area, and he helps you sit down before taking a seat next to you.

"you good?" he asks, his eyes on you as you plot yourself on the cold table with your head tilted to the side, looking up at him through your eyelashes. he places a comforting hand on your head, patting it gently.

you take his hand and rest it against your smushed cheek separating it from the table, enjoying the cool sensation of the many rings on his fingers. he chuckles at your gesture.

"sweetheart remind me not to let you drink that much next time."

　　○˳　　　　　　yunho

"what're you staring at?" yunho slides a hand over your shoulders, looking curiously at the half-empty glass that has captured your attention for the past few minutes.

"puppy," he playfully nudges his head against yours, trying to bring you out of your daze when you don't respond. he pouts, not used to being ignored by you.

with a tongue-clicking sound, he grabs the glass from your hand, and you gasp, attempting to reach for it, but he holds it up higher, causing you to lean forward and accidentally fall onto his lap. now that he has you there, he smirks mischievously and drinks from the cup right in front of you until it's empty.

you frown at his theatrics, but he sighs loudly and places the glass back on the table beside you, then starts rubbing your back.

"what's wrong, tiny? don't feel like talking to me?" he smirks as you turn away, reaching for his own glass. however, yunho quickly grabs your wrists in his hands.

"uh-uh, you've had enough tonight. you're not even paying attention to me anymore." his whining matches yours, and you finally calm down when you see his pout. you peck his lips softly once and then again, ignoring the dramatic retching sounds coming from wooyoung behind you as yunho presses a hand on the back of your head, deepening the kiss.

　　○˳　　　　　　yeosang

yeosang, being a silent drinker himself, finds your hyped-up drunk self to be a perfect match for him. but when he sees you sitting there quietly, it puzzles him. despite the soft buzz from the alcohol, he senses that something might be bothering you.

he draws you closer, and you enjoy the sensation of his leather jacket against your bare skin. he absentmindedly plays with a curl of your hair as he bends down slightly, looking into your eyes from the side.

"what's wrong?" he whispers, observing your reaction carefully. however, you can only look at him with confusion because…

"what do you mean, what's wrong? nothing's wrong, i'm good, you're good, we're good." you answer, your words slurring as you hide your face in his jacket, sneaking a hand under his shirt, feeling his body.

"ah, my baby's totally wasted," he smiles, tilting your chin up to get a better look into your eyes. "do you wanna go home? i'll get us an uber right now."

"yeah, i'd like that," you reply, and he drops a kiss on your lips before taking out his phone to book the uber. you rest your head on his chest, watching as he arranges the ride for you. when he's done, you turn to him with big doe eyes, and your bottom lip juts out a bit.

"sangie," you say.

"what?" he blushes under your unwavering gaze and instinctively gets closer to you, feeling your warm breath on his face.

"you got games on your phone?"

　　○˳　　　　　　san

two fingers snap in front of your face, and you flinch. you turn to see the cause of the sound, and there's san, looking all pouty.

"what's up, baby? not having fun?" he takes your face in his big, rough hands, rubbing his thumbs reassuringly on your cheekbones. "we can head home if you want."

"honestly, san, i'm so drunk right now, i can't make out a word you're saying," you mumble, the words coming out slurred from your lips, making san's mouth form an "o."

he giggles at you, his flushed skin showing he's also quite tipsy. his dimples pop out, and you can't help but place a soft kiss on them. this makes him giggle even harder as he pulls you closer into a tight hug. san always gets clingy when he's drunk, and you both usually turn into the giddiest mess, but tonight you're too intoxicated to act like that.

"baby you don't have to talk, 's okay just kiss me," he says, not even waiting for you to make the first move. he starts peppering your face with thousands of little kisses. when he pulls back, you notice the glitter from your makeup adorning his plush lips.

"you got sum on your lips," you absent-mindedly mutter. he wipes at his lips, asking, "oh, where?" before you move closer, saying, "lemme get it for you."

and with that, you drop one last kiss, which turns into a full-on makeout session, making wooyoung groan disgustingly next to you.

　　○˳　　　　　　mingi

"princess, you don't look so good," mingi remarks, concern evident on his face as he notices you absent-mindedly fiddling with your fingers and your unfocused gaze. you turn towards him, briefly closing your eyes.

"do you," you start, trying to get your thoughts across clearly despite feeling a bit tipsy, "do you wanna hold hands?"

mingi takes a moment to grasp your words before he lets out a little laugh. he places his hand gently on your thigh, palm up, inviting you to take it. with a bashful smile, your unsteady fingers find his, intertwining with his own.

"'f course, i wanna hold hands. why wouldn't i want to hold hands with the prettiest girl in the room?" he says, his smile widening as you shyly look away. he didn't expect this reaction from you while being a bit drunk. mingi brings your hand to his lips, planting soft kisses on each knuckle, causing you to hide your face with your free hand.

"you're sooo drunk right now, usually you'd be grinding on me, but you wanna hold hands? and you're acting all shy about it, that's new." he playfully teases, squeezing your much smaller hand in his, enjoying the cute size difference.

"shut up," you mumble, attempting to withdraw your hand, but he doesn't let you. instead, he pulls you closer and places an open-mouthed kiss on your neck, whispering close to your ear.

"if i knew i'd be seeing you actin' like that, i would've gotten you on that henny earlier."

　　○˳　　　　　　wooyoung

"pretty come sit here," wooyoung says, spreading his legs out, causing san and yunho to grumble and move away. he pats his strong thigh, inviting you with a crooked smile, and you gently sit down, wrapping your arms around his neck.

he places a warm hand on your covered thigh, and the fabric hardly stops his warmth from reaching your skin. resting his face in the crook of your neck, his hair tickles you slightly. he playfully nibbles your collarbone before planting a sweet kiss on it, leaving a little red mark behind.

"why are you in the corner all alone, you're not having fun, mmh?" he asks in a soft voice, looking up at you from below your chin. you pout a little, enjoying the way wooyoung's soft voice soothes your ears after enduring the loud club music. "a beautiful girl like you should be dancing in the middle of the club."

"the alcohol's really strong here," you whine softly, and wooyoung pecks your bottom lip. he pulls back slightly to gaze into your eyes, his own shining, as if he wants to remember your face forever.

"the alcohol's not strong, you're just a lightweight," he chuckles, making fun of you, which makes you grumble and hide your face in his neck, not wanting to be teased anymore. "come on, pretty, let me see your face. can't hide it from me, you'll make me cry."

"i hate you," you whisper, before giving in to temptation and pecking his soft lips. he smiles during the kiss, his hands gently caressing your legs.

"wrong, you're so in love me with me." as you nod against his head, he lets out a deep laugh, kissing your lips once again, pulling you even closer to him. "one more kiss, please?"

"i can't stand you."

"that's why you're sitting on my lap."

　　○˳　　　　　　jongho

you're snuggled up close to jongho, who's bantering with hongjoong in a boisterous manner. when your head rests on his shoulder, he glances at you and pulls you even nearer by wrapping an arm around your waist. with a sweet peck on your head, he greets you with a laid-back "hey."

"hey," you reply, gazing at him as if he's the most captivating thing in the world.

he asks, humming out, "you doin' okay? i haven't seen you dance at all."

feeling his chest vibrating against you adds to the charm of the moment as you answer, "'m doin' okay." jongho can't help but smile, finding your current state of calmness at the club adorable yet novel. it's not something he's seen before, but he definitely likes it.

"how many drinks did you have tonight?" he raises an eyebrow and chuckles when you count your drinks on your fingers. eight fingers are raised, indicating the extent of your indulgence.

"that much." you mumble absent-mindedly, prompting him to lovingly scrunch his nose at you. he takes one of your hands, bringing it to his lips, where he gently pecks two of your manicured nails.

turning to hongjoong, he asks for a glass of water, which his friend agrees to and glances down at you, slouching contentedly on jongho's shoulder.

"now that we're alone, i can finally do this," jongho murmurs, placing a hand on your face and gently brushing away the hair obscuring your eyes.

"do wha—" you start to ask, but he interrupts with a long, lingering kiss on the lips, savoring the taste of alcohol in your mouth. his tongue glides from the roof to the bottom, teasing and dancing with yours, leaving both of you breathless and wanting more.

"usually, you're the one pushing me to kiss you in front of everyone. never thought i'd miss it," he admits with a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

[strawberrystepmom]

nsfw - minors/ageless blogs dni, i will block you. narumi x f!reader. cw ass play although it is not super descriptive. playful and light cunnilingus although it is not tasteful <3 video game lover we should *mario coin noise* with each other etc etc… | divider by @cafekitsune, wc 933

An army of colorful vehicles in varying styles whizz across the screen in front of your bed, nothing but the sound of clicking buttons and shifting joysticks and the occasional excited giggle or whoop filling your bedroom.

Gen rests against the headboard of your bed, eyes darting between you and the screen where the game is underway, drawn to a sight that is almost delicious enough to distract him on lap 7. His eyes fall to the juncture where your supple ass and thigh meet, emboldened knowing that if he spreads his hand and cups your cheek with the space between his index finger and thumb, it’s a perfect fit. 

You were made to be his little prize whether you’re aware of it or not and there are times he really enjoys reminding you who is really in power in this relationship. He may allow your mouth  to get the best of him on occasion, trapping him with honeyed words and an eager tongue, but Gen Narumi never loses. Certainly not to you. 

At least that’s what he tells himself, conveniently ignoring that all you had to do was lay opposite of him to land you in this position. 

He follows suit and gently climbs over you, eyes not leaving the screen once as he moves. Gen leans down, placing a gentle kiss against the back of your knee that makes you groan. You glance over your shoulder with brows knit, frowning. Looking away from the screen ahead of you is all but an instant death sentence for the victory you thought you claimed when you tossed an item in his direction and slowed him down.  

“Stop that,” you whine, gently shaking your leg in a feeble attempt to get him off of you. Your ass jiggles just beneath the hemline of the slightly oversized t-shirt you’re wearing. Calling it oversized is really a stretch considering it falls just beneath your hips and leaves your panty clad pussy and ass exposed to your boyfriend; the motion only serves as encouragement for the wandering mouth and hands upon you. 

You had to know he’d take advantage of you when you stretched out across the bed on your belly, legs kicking up behind you, giving the man sitting at the head of it a worthy attempt but ultimately useless distraction. Truth be told, it was all part of your master plan to finally beat him at his own game. He kisses the back of your thigh, keeping his eyes glued on the screen that sits just high enough over you that he can see it and his hands on the controller. 

“Gen, I’m serious. Quit it.” You are too distracted to keep your character on the track, veering off to the side with a whimper, victory slipping from your grasp. “You are such a sore winner, I swear to god.”

A sharp exhale fans out against that very same spot he knows his hand fits perfectly and he chuckles, pressing the trigger button and tossing the item he knows will get you off of his tail in an instant while the two of you cross the finish line. You pout and toss your controller aside, burying your face into the bedding beneath you to whine pitfully. 

“You can’t let me win just once?” The words are muffled by the blanket though he knows exactly what you’re saying. “Can’t you let me win just once Gen, please, please, please?” He mocks you in return, placing his hands on either of your hips and pulling them upward, arching your back just to his liking in the process. The t-shirt falls upward, exposing the whole of your back to him, and he can see the wet spot directly between your legs when he pushes them apart.

“You say I’m a sore winner but you’re the one who is about to be sore,” he warns, placing a smack against the roundest part of your ass that causes you to yelp, body jerking enough to give him a few more ripples of gorgeous skin and soft curves.  A low, appreciative hum rumbles in his throat. 

Your traitorous body responds to his call by pushing your hips backwards, knees practically tucked into your underarms thanks to the angle you’re presenting yourself to him at, arms extended out in front of you. It’s a feast for his eyes and he peels back the waistband of your panties, sliding them down your hips and situating them pulled halfway down around your thighs. The damp patch is even more visible from this angle and he leans in to press his tongue against your puckered hole, reaching between your legs to glide his thumb down your sodden slit, stopping just short of your clit. 

“Mmm,” he hums, blowing on your now damp hole, your hips bucking backward in return. Tongue darting out of his mouth, he presses the flat of it against your body, eliciting another whine that is muffled by the covers your face remains buried in. His hands pull your cheeks apart, keeping you spread and open and revealed to him. Dipping his face lower, he laps at your folds and your clit, your hips grinding down in a silent plea for more. 

“You think you’re gonna get it this easy after playing that little game?” His words are mumbled right against your sopping and engorged clit, tip of his tongue lightly toying with the bud. “Not a chance. You’ll cum when I’m ready to win,” he chuckles, tongue drawing slow circles around where you want him instead of directly atop it. “Again.”

[naptimepng]

late nights

Pairing: Kyle Garrick x GN!Reader 

Rating: G

Word Count: 690 

Warnings/Tags: hint at PTSD, nightmares, domestic softness. 

Summary: You’re home late, Kyle wakes up, you soothe him back to sleep. Just soft, domestic, fluffy goodness. 

A/N: the love of my life 

It’s late when you get home, close to midnight, maybe after - you hadn’t checked the time since leaving work, but glance at your watch as you ease the door closed behind you, toeing off your shoes, placing the keys on the kitchen table as quietly as you can. 

It’s a slow struggle getting to the bathroom to brush your teeth. Tugging off socks and trousers and your pyjamas up your legs and over your head as you sag against the sink. The darkness of the bathroom doesn’t help your tiredness but you hadn’t bothered to turn the light on with the headache growing at the base of your skull, and not wanting to wake Kyle with the click of the switch and the bright light.

You’re brushing your teeth - slow, repetitive movements - when the door opens and Kyle comes padding in, eyes half-closed as he lets the door swing closed behind him. You glance over your shoulder as he steps into your space, his hands around your waist. 

“Kyle,” you sigh, mumbling a little around the toothbrush in your mouth, “did I wake you? ‘M sorry, baby, I tried to be quiet—”

“Nah, you’re alright,” he mutters, rubbing his eyes. “Got cold, saw you weren’t back yet. Had a feeling.” 

He goes quiet then, presses himself against your back as he tucks his chin over your shoulder. The warm pressure of him behind you is less sexual, more missing your heat after leaving the warmth of the bed. 

“What,” you smile, patting the back of his hand as he rubs your shoulder, “like a spidey sense?”

It makes him smile even through the haze of sleep as he noses under your ear, his big, warm hands sneaking under your t-shirt to spread over your soft tummy. Gently holding you as he rests his chin on your shoulder, lifting his head to press a soft kiss there as he watches you, the low yellow light from the bedroom illuminating you enough for him to admire you in the mirror. His eyes begin to droop closed as you wipe the foam from your mouth and slip your toothbrush into the cup next to his, swirling water around your mouth before spitting. 

Your hands scrunch into your t-shirt to dry them before you reach behind you to squeeze gently at the back of his neck. 

“C’mon, my love,” you whisper, trying not to rouse him too much. “Let’s get you back in bed, yeah?” 

“Mm… ‘m comin’,” he mumbles, not moving an inch. If anything, holding you closer as he breathes in your smell with his nose rubbing against the soft, heated skin where your neck meets your shoulder. 

“Kyle… come on, baby boy.” It takes a little to turn in his tight hold, holding his face in your hands and feeling your heart grow warm in your chest when he burrows his cheek into your palm. 

“Garrick, c’mon. Wake up jus’ a little bit,” you murmur, moving to gently squeeze his cheeks, smooshing his pretty pink lips into a pout and hiding a smile when he groans and pushes your hand away. 

“Arse.” 

“Pretty boy.” 

He lets you peck his cheek as you clamber into bed, turning to him over your shoulder. You lift the corner of the duvet in an invitation that he accepts happily, following you under the sheets and humming, pleased to find some residual warmth lingering underneath them as his limbs stretch to find yours in the dark. He curls close to you, his head under your chin, and it occurs to you then - just as your arm curls across his back - that he might’ve woken for another reason - copper and shrapnel and sand grating against the broken skin of his split knuckles - cold wind stinging his cheeks— 

Your fingers find the back of his neck, rubbing in slow, circular motions to soothe him back to sleep. Feeling the long, slow breath that leaves him as you dig a little deeper with your knuckles, working the tension out of the muscles there. He’s asleep in seconds, relaxing against you as you press a soft kiss to his temple.

[pinkcandyhearts04]

morning quickie | johnny cage x reader

johnny has an early morning meeting and you don't want him to leave yet

18+ ACCOUNT AND POST, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

im not 100% fan of no johnny whimpering but this is a quickie, he dont give a damn about NAYTHING

warnings: afab reader!, degradation if you squint, not men whimpering but a 3rd more desperate thing, porn without plot, do not read this if you actually want some story

"leaving already?" johnny glances over his shoulder at you, giving you one of his signature smiles. your arms wrap around his waist as you bury your face into his back, sighing softly as you feel the way his chest rises and falls with every breath he takes. "i have a meeting with my manager. he's already pissed of as it is." he chuckles softly, his hand finding one of yours and squeezing it gently. "he can wait a little longer, can't he?" johnny can't help but laugh a bit at that, taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to it. "don't tempt me with a good time. but unless you want us to start taking public transportation, i should go and see what he wants." you pout a bit when johnny manages to leave your grasp, even still turning to press a kiss to your forehead. before he can pull too far away, you grab the collar of his shirt and kiss him with a passion that sends a chill down his spine.

he barely makes any attempt to pull away, a soft grunt leaving him before you break the kiss. a string of saliva connects the two of you, staring into each others eyes; you can see that all too familiar flame, a mischievous smile spreading on your lips. "fuck it. i can make this fast." you can only manage a quiet giggle when johnny kisses you, hard and wanting as he starts to tug off your shorts; he doesn't dare to take off his button down that's practically hanging off of you, a simple piece of fabric doing things to him. you don't make any attempt to stop him or even make him slow down, gasping when two of his fingers start to pump into you fast and without much warning. "fuck, so wet already..it's not even 10 o clock yet." he groans softly, letting your shaky hands start to undo the buckle of his belt. once he's sure you're ready, he wastes no time in flipping you onto your stomach pressing your face into the covers. his free hand holds your hips up as you squirm underneath him, trying to get some friction already.

"shh, let me do this, hot stuff. you wanted this so bad, you enjoy the ride." johnny snickers, collecting some of your wetness on his fingers to stroke over his cock. without a second to think, johnny pushes into you up to the hilt. the two of you moan in unison at the heat growing between you two, making you bury your face into the sheets as he rocks his hips into you with a rough pace from the get-go. soft gasps leave you every time he pushes back into you, your fingers gripping the sheets at the sound of his groans behind you. "fuck, baby, so fucking tight.." he grumbles, his hand holding your head down now trailing to your breasts. he gropes one of them roughly, making your back arch as you start to match his pace with your own hips. "goddamn, feels like you were fucking made for me.." with how erratic he starts to move, you can tell he's close. soft pants leave johnny as you look over your shoulder at him almost the same he had looked at you only moments ago, tears of pleasure welling in your eyes. "w-wanna..cum, wanna cum a-at the same time.." you whine out softly, your pleading voice only further cracking johnny's resolve.

johnny groans as his hand almost instantly moves to your clit, rubbing rough circles against it. that motion alone elicits a loud cry from you, turning to jelly in johnny's hands as the other hand not playing with your clit holds you up. "j-ohnny..." you whine, barely able to make out any words as you feel the coil in you start to unravel. "i k-know, dollface, i know, fuck.." johnny groans, finally letting loose as he presses his hips flush against yours. you let a long, desperate moan when you cum only seconds after johnny, feeling the way he seems to almost endlessly fill you up.

idk how to end this lol, johnny aftercare is not my strong suit although i know he would DEFINITELY BE GOOD AT IT

[cosmorice]

When Lips Collide

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

Synopsis: CEO!Jungkook and you have an odd relationship filled with tension and chaos; but is it hatred he truly has for you?

Pairing: CEO!Jungkook x Reader

Tw: angst, slow-burn, swearing (duh), toxic jungkook, alcohol

Wc: 1984

I hate you, I think? Series Masterlist

Your back collides with the cloud-like mattress as you land with a soft thud. Staring at the ceiling, you wonder to yourself if you should even attend this dinner. Like hell Jungkook was gonna scare you off. You’re CFO for fucks sake. The vibration of your phone snaps you out of your thoughts as the sound cascades through your ears.

Jin needs gin [6:30 pm] - listen im rlly sorry about how Jungkook is acting

Jin needs gin [6:30 pm] - dinner is at 7…just don’t be scared to lmk if you need anything at all

Y/N [6:35 pm] - ty jinnyyyy! Meet you all downstairs :)

You toss your phone back to the side in annoyance as you begrudgingly stand to your feet. After readjusting yourself with a lovely stretch, you stare at your suitcases; Which somehow seem to be taunting you in return. Time to find a decent outfit. Due to it being summer, and the high humidity that surrounds South Korea and Tokyo, you packed simple items and a few dresses.

Your eyes settle on a short yet tight red body-con dress. Adding some finishing touches of light makeup and some perfume, you check the time on your phone. 6:55. Grabbing your purse, your feet betray your body as they hurriedly head through the door. Suddenly you feel your body collide into someone else. Jimin. Confusion dawns upon your face as to why he would be on a company trip like this.

“Woah hey Y/N!” Jimin smiles towards you, as the puzzled glance never leaves your face.

“Hey Jimin. You’re here for the work trip too?” 

“Ah, yes. Jungkook wants to appoint me as CTO, but he wanted me to tag along to see how things really work behind the scenes for a company as big as his.” He rubs the back of his head, never breaking eye contact with you. 

Jimin was truly a nice guy. With the handful of interactions you both shared, he never showed a hint of unkindness, and for that, you appreciated him. You knew he had a large background in technology, even graduating with a major in computer engineering with an emphasis on robotics; So this news wasn’t really a shock to you.

“Wow, that’s really amazing. I take it your heading down to meet with everyone as well?” Your teeth flash an appearance towards the taller man as you both begin walking alongside one another.

-

Jungkook, Jin, and Namjoon waited casually in the lobby expecting your arrival. 

“Y/N is coming. Do not fuck this up Jungkook.” Jin turns towards the lanky man beside him. Namjoon watches the exchange about to unfold between the two.

“Fuck what up exactly?” Jungkook asks dumbly with a chuckle, causing Jin to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. The elevator interrupts them with a slight ding. Speak of the devil. You and Jimin happily stroll up to the trio, chuckling amongst yourselves. You move in slow motion in Jungkook’s eyes as he scans your body and takes in all of your features. The way your red dress hugs your curves comfortably and the way the curls in your hair bounce as you greet everyone animatedly. His stomach is in knots and unjustified anger settles within his mind as he watches the way you talk with Jimin. 

He scoffs and walks past the four of you before simply stating, “I’ll call a cab.”

-

Your once tense shoulders begin to ease with comfortability as the alcohol courses its’ way through your bloodstream. 

“Y/N, I’m thinking we should go to a club tonight. What do ya say?” Jimin turns to you, eyes glazed over in excitement. You had heard about the nightlife in Japan, so why the hell not?

“I’m game!” Namjoon chimes in, earning a nod from Jin along the way. “Come on!” He continues to whine, even forcing a pout.

“Oppa!” You laugh in amusement as you feverishly nod yes. Jungkook feels his mouth beginning to crack a smile, quickly putting a stop to it. The excitement you displayed was rather..cute. The way your eyes widened ever so slightly and your cherry red painted lips contrasted against your white teeth was a lovely sight for the man.

“What about you Jungkook?” Jimin turns to the raven-haired boy, as you all await a response from him. A large part of you hopes he’s tired and opts to stay at his hotel, but you know that’s not happening. You begin to wonder to god if he put Jungkook on this earth just to torture you.

“If Y/N is going, I’d rather not. Seems like it’ll be a bore.” Jungkook sneers. Yep, he was put here to torture you. Your cheeks heat up with anger as you roll your eyes towards your boss. Jin groans as he palms his forehead while Namjoon goes blank.

-

Jungkook broods in the corner of the shared table as lights flicker and flash upon him. How Jin managed to get him to come was a mystery to you, but quite frankly, you didn't care. The brown tinted liquid sloshes in Jungkook's cup as he takes another large swig whilst eyeing you from afar.

The speakers boom and beads of sweat trickle along the side of your forehead as you sway your hips to the beat. Jin and Namjoon not too far from you, laugh amongst themselves as the alcohol throttles into full gear. Sure you all had a meeting tommorow but you were in Tokyo for fucks sake. With his tie undone and crazy hair, Jimin grabs your waist and dances rythmatically alongside you. Your bodies pulsate to the music as you both flirtatiously dance. 

Something switches within Jungkook. His brown orbs never leaving you as he calculates the interaction you're having with Jimin. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but he needed to take action. Setting his cup down, his lanky limbs storm through the sea of bodies straight towards you. Suddenly, you feel a strong pull on your arm, turning to see it was Jungkook.

"Y/N, we need to talk now." He states, his eyes darkened. Before getting the chance to utter a word, he pulls you away, leaving behind a confused Jimin. He watches as you are pulled towards the exit before striding over to Namjoon and Jin in total confusion.

"Guys, Jungkook just dragged Y/N out." This sentence alone was enough to raise alarms in both the heads of Namjoon and Jin.

"What?" Namjoon's brow furrows, while his mind wanders to the possibilities as to why in the hell Jungkook would take you out of the club.

"Should we go look for them?" Jimin asks, slight worry lacing his voice. He hasn't been with the company for long but could sense the brewing tension between you and the CEO. What if Y/N got fired?

-

"What in the actual fuck do you think your doing?" You scream as the cool summer air presses against your sweaty body. A couple of passerby's stare out of curiosity but you could care less.

"Watch it. I think you're forgetting that I'm your boss and I'm the CEO here." Jungkook adds casually. His now calm demeanor fueling your anger even further.

"Fuck. You." Your alcohol tinted breath wafts across his face as you press a finger up to the taller mans chest. Jungkook takes advantage of your close proximity and crashes his plump lips against yours. You take a step back as you watch his expression turn into complete blankness mixed with a sea of confusion. Before you could press him further, a familiar voice calls out,

"Y/N! We've been looking for you! Everything alright?" Jin runs up to you, Jimin and Namjoon trailing close behind him. The sound of their sneaker clad footsteps against the ground come to a halt as they stand beside you and Jungkook.

"Y-yeah. We were just discussing the meeting." You manage to spit out, Namjoon eyeing you. You seem to have forgotten that your closest friend can smell your lies from a mile away.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

"Quit pacing around. You know I hate that." You groan, watching your blonde haired friend slowly walk back and forth in front of your hotel bed.

"And you know I hate liars. Now tell me what the hell actually happened back there." Namjoon curtly responds, causing you to flop backwards onto your pillow. Namjoon opted to sleepover in your room with you, wanting to get to the bottom of things. Although you hated lying to your best friend, you didn't know how the hell to even explain the situation to him.

You feel absolutely stunted. You were ashamed to admit you enjoyed the kiss. Why would you enjoy that from a person who treats you like dog shit? This was all new to you and quite frankly, your heart betrayed you as you wanted every part in it.

"He kissed me." You say in a hoarse whisper, taking a massive drink from your water bottle. You prayed to god that you would sober up, speeding up said process with water.

"I'm sorry. What?" Namjoon stops dead in his tracks.

-

"What in the everloving fuck possessed you to do that?" Jin runs a hand through his head as he stares down at a seated Jungkook. Jungkook's face rests between his hands as his gaze averts to the ground.  No response. "I know you aren't deaf Jung." Jin taps his foot against the floor, full of impatience.

"I don't know Jin. I'm confused." Jungkook's gaze never leaving the carpet. The cloud like bed offering emotional comfort to the man as his body finds solace sitting atop it.

"Admit it, and quit lying to yourself. I see right through your bullshit. You think I didn't notice you dissappearing into her office for clusters of time to help her out and talk with her? You're 26 years old and can't even get a handle on your emotions. Quite frankly, I'm tired of it." Maybe Jin had a point. Jungkook didn't know how to navigate things so he did what he does best: act cold and guarded. He knew he took things too far with you but he got a rise out of your lack of self containment. The bed indents further as Jin takes a seat next to his friend,

"I love you to death but you need to figure this out. Properly."

-

"The craziest thing about it Joonie, I liked it." You bite your lip, knowing the man in front of you is about to chew you out. Instead, he sighs and sits next to you.

"Y/N, why? For god's sake he's our BOSS. Why can't you go after someone like Jimin? He actually seems to know how to treat a woman correctly, and to be quite honest, Jungkook has done nothing but show the opposite of that." He looks to you with dissapointment for the first time, something you never thought you'd see from the optomistic man. You knew he was right and you were even more dissapointed in yourself. Don't get it wrong, Jimin was such a kind soul but you never viewed him in that light. You both maintained a positively neutral working relationship and honestly, he was never your type to begin with.

You always grew up with a strong sense of knowing and self worth. Your parents never failed to give you love and vice versa, so why would you start settling for this sort of thing now? Before you knew it, a tear escapes your eye, followed by a whole stream. Namjoon engulfs your smaller frame into a tight hug, ushering you with a small symphony of 'shhh, it's going to be alright'.

"We have a meeting tommorow." You say while glancing to your phone. 3:34 am. Namjoon shoots a sad smile towards you as he gets up to turn off the lights.

taglist!!! :

@juikmon @sassykryptonitedelusion @theternaljk @tatumrileyslover @topforsure @senaqsstuff @santiiagopopegarcia @fandems

[playbucky]

Wifey.

You and Ghost have been colleagues, some might say friends even lovers if you listen to the rumours, since you both joined the army.  Characters – Ghost x Reader, Price, Gaz, Soap, Laswell, Graves.  Word Count - 1.7k.

He slowly made his way into your room with heavy steps, ones he purposely did to make sure you heard him. Anyone else that looked into the room would assume that you were focused on the book on your lap, you followed his steps around the room, the routine that he always had. He made his way to the kettle and switched it on, you had filled it with fresh water when you came back. When the kettle boiled he grabbed his mug, the tea bag, sugar and milk before he made his concoction. You had tried to make it once, he drank it but the way his lips twisted with every sip you left it to him. He removed his out layers and welcomed the way his sweat cooled against his body even if he felt sticky and horrible, he made his way over and lowered himself into the couch beside you, the mask pulled up to rest on the bridge of his nose. The familiar scars on show for you and you alone. ‘How long?’ You asked, hands warmed by the mug in between them, you hadn’t drank the tea you made earlier. ‘Six months.’ He grumbled, your pouted. ‘I won’t be here when you come back, being sent on tour.’ You told him the news you got at eight am sharp this morning. ‘Again?’ He quizzed, you nodded as you turned to him. ‘The Lieutenant had an emergency, he’s taking my next one if he’s back.’ You said, Simon grunted next to you.

‘Where is she?’ You recognised his voice, it bounced off the walls, a quieter response came from someone but you couldn’t hear it. Incoming footsteps stopped outside your door, for once you were glad you were in a room by yourself when the door was pushed open. Ghost stood in the middle of the room, dark narrowed eyes searched the bare room before they landed on you. Simon made his appearance, the wrinkles between his brows smoothed. ‘Lieutenant Y/L/N, I tried to stop him.’ The nurse apologised, her eyes wide with fear and concern, you waved her off. ‘It’s alright.’ You told her, a weary glance was sent to Simon before she nodded. Once the door was shut behind her, Simon’s shoulders dropped, his eyes softened as he took you in. You had yet to see yourself but with the pain across your face, the wound ran down your cheek and was surrounded by a slow forming bruise. ‘I’m alright.’ You spoke, his gaze narrowed on your face. ‘Bullshit, I read your intake report.’ He admitted, ‘busted ribs, concussion, fractured eye socket, broken nose, broken leg - want me to go on?’ Simon quizzed, you shook your head. ‘No thank you, I can feel them.’ You replied, he narrowed his eyes at you. ‘What did you do, cannonball off the building.’ He commented, you didn’t respond, ‘Please tell me you didn’t.’ Simon almost begged you as his stomach flipped. ‘I didn’t.’ You replied, he glared at you ‘well it was either that or get blown up by a grenade, what would you rather?’ You asked, he grumbled some response as you tried to smile but the wound stopped you. ‘You’re an idiot.’ He breathed out, the hand on the edge of the bed wrapped around your hand. ‘I know.’ You replied, he played with a finger. ‘Did you succeed?’ Simon quizzed, you shook your head. ‘No,’ you inhaled, ‘Laswell’s coming in later to discuss it.’ ‘It wasn’t a tour, was it?’ He asked, you looked away from him. ‘Can’t say.’ Your fingers played with the blanket.  ‘Y/N.’ His voice deepened, you narrowed your eyes at him as you turned. ‘It’s still open, you know the rules.’ You reminded him, he crossed his arms over his chest. ‘I don’t care about the rules when you end up here.’ He said. ‘Simon.’ You said sternly, you were sure he pouted underneath his mask. ‘Can I have a cuddle?’ You asked, he huffed but stood up, his large frame seemed to take up most the space. ‘Move over.’ He commanded, his voice soft as he motioned at you. Carefully your moved over, you face scrunched up and Simon jerked forward, you held a hand up. He huffed again before he watched you roll onto your side, he rested his hands on the blanket that had been draped over you. Slowly he snuck in behind you, once he was on, awkwardly but as comfortable as he would go without his worry of hurting you appearing. He wrapped an arm over you, hand across your chest as you hugged it. Warmth spread all over and you relaxed, Simon followed soon after.

Ghost followed Price, Soap and Gaz into the small conference room. The overhead lights had been dimmed enough to see the projector clearly. ‘Afternoon fellas.’ You greeted them, leg up on a second chair, the white cast stuck out. The others smiled widely at you but Ghost glared, silently he went to his seat whilst the group quizzed you, having not saw you for almost two weeks. ‘It’s nice to see you but we’re here for work not a catch up.’ You told them, they reluctantly walked away and lowered themselves into their seats, attention on you and the screen. ‘I told you my latest assignment was a regular tour, six months of drills and searches but I lied,’ you started, you watched their brows dipped, ‘Although I was with a team I was there for an alternative reason who I can now name as Phillip Graves.’ You informed them. ‘Very funny, we killed him two years ago.’ Soap said, you remained silent and rolled your neck. ‘You never.’ ‘Upon further investigation the person in the tank wasn’t Grave, he had a scapegoat and managed to escape.’ You explained, they looked confused and angry. ‘Laswell caught wind of him again about eight months ago.’ You said, all their attention snapped to Laswell who had her head lowered, ‘I managed to get close enough to watch him, the team he’s gained is supporting a few terrorist organisations.’ ‘So, when’s the attack?’ ‘Not sure, but three of his members flew into to Heathrow this morning and Graves, or Andrew Smith joined them two hours ago.’ You explained. ‘You got a plan for us?’ Price asked, Kate nodded and stepped forward to take over. Everyone looked at her to pay attention but you knew Simon was watching you, you turned to him and you were right. The dark eyes appeared to be glaring at you but they weren’t. ‘I’m sorry.’ you mouthed, he dipped his head before he turned to Kate. ‘You know, your girlfriends pretty good at jumping from roofs, she’s beautiful as well.’ Graves said, he was trying his best to get under Ghost’s skin but he tilted his head back to make contact eye contact with him. ‘I don’t have a girlfriend.’ He responded, his voice emotionless. ‘So, who’s that pretty thing then?’ Graves quizzed, Ghost stared at him but he noticed something click in his pea sized brain. ‘She’s your wife.’ He stated, Ghost didn’t react but Soap and Price glanced at him cautiously, one of them knew the answer, ‘I mean, I heard all the rumours when I was with you for that short time and truthfully, I see it.’ He leaned back in his seat. ‘Big bad Ghost who’s said to be unbreakable and the pretty little thing who breaks herself.’ He said, Ghost narrowed his eyes behind bis mask as Graves chuckled to himself. ‘No wonder she turned me down how many times.’ Graves commented, in order to annoy Simon but truthfully he already knew about the attempts. ‘Maybe you just need to listen to women, or anyone in general.’ Soap commented, Graves’ eyes snapped to him with a sinister smile. 

‘They found out.’ He whispered into your ear, his grip tight around your back. ‘What?’ You asked, he pulled back as you looked at his face. ‘You’re married.’ Soap exclaimed, Simon huffed and you could see the annoyance on his face. ‘Yeah.’ You sighed, you looked at Gaz who looked shocked and confused as well. ‘You never told us.’ He said, you crossed your arms over your chest, Soap stopped. ‘Wasn’t a need to know.’ You commented, Simon stood next to you as the men tried to interrogate you. ‘Bullshit.’ He spat put. ‘Soap.’ You snapped, he looked at you, ‘I apologise that we never told you or Kyle, our jobs, especially mine means I can’t flaunt any relationships no matter how important they are to me.’ You said. ‘Can we ask why?’ Soap asked. ‘Yeah, doesn’t mean we’ll answer.’ Simon quickly replied. ‘Simon,’ you started, ‘it was for support or convenience. None of us had family so we came to the conclusion it’d be easier and here we are.’ You held an arm out, Soaps eyebrows had raised. ‘Explains why he listens to you.’ Gaz commented, you chuckled as Simon stepped closer.  ‘He doesn’t listen I’m just the voice of reason that he knows if he breaks it, he’ll get into trouble.’ You told the group, Simon rolled his eyes and his grip on your waist tightened slightly. ‘I think we should go the pub.’ Soap stated. ‘Why?’ You asked him, head tilted to the side. ‘To celebrate the real death of Graves.’ He commented, you saw the glint in his eyes. ‘And?’ You quizzed. ‘There isn’t an and.’ Soap commented, you arched your eyebrow but the smile spread over Soap’s lips gave you the answer. ‘There’s always an and with you.’ Simon commented. ‘Fine,’ he sighed, ‘we should celebrate your marriage.’ He said hopeful, you silently chuckled. ‘Soap we’ve been together for almost twenty years.’ Simon admitted to the group, their eyes widened. ‘All the more to celebrate.’ Gaz commented, you lowered your head now that he was joining in. ‘I mean, I could use a drink.’ You stated, Simon’s head snapped around to you before he sighed and nodded. Soap cheered before he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and lead the pair of you away. Price and Gaz followed closely but Simon watched, his heartbeat quickened as he looked at his family. You looked over your shoulder and looked at him, an eyebrow raised before you stretched a hand out inviting him to join. 

[god-has-entered-my-body]

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun // Teaser

Stripper! Matty x Corporate! Girlie

content warnings: allusions to smut, just mdni I beg, lingerie, fem matty, vague descriptions of a lap dance

It's like you can see the flashing neon lights vibrating along with the bass, pulsing music making the whiskey in your glass ripple slightly. The crowd is thin, people leaving slowly as the night nears its end. Yet you see the DJ still playing, mixing and grinning wildly as the music makes its way through the room. You watch him for a few minutes, his long blonde hair falling right above his shoulders in loose waves, white shirt clinging to his sweaty chest. 

Your eyes scan the room lazily, taking a sip of your drink, the alcohol burning deliciously on the way down, numbing the constant feeling of stress, even if for only a little while. Purple and pink blurs your vision as you down the rest of the whiskey, running a hand through your let-down hair, unbuttoning one of the buttons of your shirt. 

Preoccupied with looking for a waitress to refill your drink, you don’t even notice the lingering glances from the figure to your right. The clicks of a pair of heels is the first thing you hear, impossibly loud even in the midst of the music, it's all you can focus on. Your eyes wander up his body as he nears you, skin glistening with sweat and glitter, his eyes glinting in the colorful lights of the strip club. 

Raking over his frame, you watch him sway his hips, one hand pushing his hair up, messy curls falling well past his ears, ends dipped in pink dye, mixing wonderfully with the chocolate brown framing his face. You can see a ring in his lip from where you’re sitting, but that isn't what captures your interest. Trailing down, you see a glittery belly button piercing, standing out beautifully against his pale skin. It makes your breath hitch, your knuckles white around your glass. 

Twenty, fifty, hundred dollar bills are held in place by the waistband of his skimpy lace panties, so sheer they leave most nothing to the imagination. Your lips part at the garter belt hugging his body, holding up fishnet stockings you swear you’ve only seen in your dreams, the thin straps of his heels tightly clasped around his ankles. That man was now standing in front of you, lips pouted and a hand on his hip, nails chipped black. 

You can see him more clearly now, bracelets and necklaces covering him, audible whenever he moves, entrancing you fully. Dark blue eyeshadow frames his eyes, now looking down at you from his position between your parted legs, smiling coyly. With your shirt half unbuttoned and untucked, your hair down and refilled whiskey in hand, you eye him up and down for what felt like the fourth time that night, biting your lip when you land on the lace barely covering him.

“Fancy a dance, love?” he speaks, words coated in thick honey, his glossed lips moving in slow-motion as you raise your eyebrows at him, a sly grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. You see him suck in a deep breath as you pretend to ponder, your tongue swiping along your bottom lip for good measure. Nodding slowly, you move your hand away from your lap, freeing up space for him to straddle you, thighs on either side of yours. 

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing alone in a club?” Ha asks, lips pressed so close to your ear you can feel his breath against your skin. He smells like posh cologne, a stark contrast to his otherwise feminine, almost soft appearance. “Work stress, you know how it is.” you mutter, eyes focussed on his chest, transfixed. 

“I don’t, actually.” he giggles, resting his slender fingers on your shoulders. He uses his new position to start grinding down on you, rolling his hips against your body. His movements are fluid, practiced, sure. “Tell me your name, doll.” you half ask, half demand, the lustful look in your eye unmistakable. The curly haired man wraps an arm around the back of your neck, bringing your faces impossibly close, your lips almost touching. 

“Matty. The name’s Matty.”