#i had him out you know what that means!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sceletaflores · 3 days ago

Text

well, all right i’m bad, but then you’re no prize either…

pair: joel miller x fem!reader

wc: 8.6k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, no ellie, general violence (only referenced), age gap (56/26), swearing, so many spacers lmao, not quite friends to lovers and not quite enemies to lovers but a weird other thing, kinda mean!joel for a good sec, dressing wounds, joel miller TUMMY, loss of virginity (reader is a virgin but she's not completely oblivious and weirdly infantile about it lmao), fingering (fem!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex whoops, size kink, belly bulging, pussy pronouns, porn with a tiny plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: well, i finally caved y’all. baby’s first tlou fic! this literally took me forever to write and even longer to post cause i was so terrified LMAO so please give me some grace if it’s shit and he’s ooc and timelines are a little fuzzy cause i barely know what i’m doing. thank you chickens love you mwah mwah mwah. kisses!

dividers by lovely @saradika-graphics!

joel found a lodge house…

You don’t know what you did to make Joel Miller hate you so much.

He's never outright said it, but you know it’s there—in every sharp glance, every clipped word, every deliberate avoidance.

Besides, his silence is worse than anything he could say. A quiet condemnation that settles in your chest like stone.

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter, that you don’t care what he thinks, but the truth is harder to swallow.

You do care—more than you want to admit. His approval, his respect, hell, even a sliver of kindness from him feels like an impossible prize you’ll never win.

And you hate yourself for wanting it. For needing it.

It's not just the weight of his disdain that eats at you, it's the not knowing why. God, do you wish you could ask him why.

What did you do to make him look at you like you’re some necessary evil he has to tolerate. Why does he hold some unspoken grudge that's manifested itself into something you couldn't dream of ever comprehending.

But the thought of confronting Joel feels like standing on the edge of a cliff, staring down into a void that might swallow you whole.

So instead, you do what you've always done. You keep your distance, try to match his indifference with your own, and tell yourself it’s better this way.

You were young when the outbreak hit, six years old.

You’re sure that’s part of it. That that’s how Joel sees you, as some bumbling, naive child who’s more of a hassle than anything else.

Another mouth to feed, another back to watch, baggage.

You've been with him for almost seven months now, traveling side by side when you may have well been miles apart. Trekking through abandoned cities, overgrown highways, and every godforsaken patch of wilderness in between.

In the beginning, you did everything you could to prove him wrong.

You pushed yourself past your limits, hunted, scavenged, fought, kept up. You did everything that needed to be done without hesitation.

All to show that you were more than what he made you out to be. It never seemed to matter much.

After you lost your parents in the early days of the outbreak, it was just you and your sister. She taught you everything you know, taught you how to survive.

It's because of her that you know how to shoot a rifle, how to skin a rabbit, how to start a fire with nothing but sticks and dried moss, how to snap bones and locate which vital arteries bleed out the quickest.

It's because of her that you've been able to hone some sick skill in the maiming of clickers.

A skill you never thought you'd need to use on her.

You were supposed to be safe in the QZ. You weren't supposed to be fifteen years old, aiming a gun at the one person you had left.

Your own flesh and blood wasn't supposed to be the very first in a long list of red tallies under your belt.

It’s been years and you’ve still never forgotten that day. December 19th, 2012, the date burned into your brain like someone took a branding iron to the tissue.

You can’t count the amount of times you’ve been ripped from your sleep drenched in a cold sweat with the tail end of a scream tearing at the skin of your throat.

The image of what was left of your sister, slumped on the ground lifeless as her blood painted the wall behind her flashing behind your closed eyelids. The sound of her last labored breath ringing in your ears louder than any shotgun blast.

You ran that same night, with the weight of her death on your shoulders.

Your entire world spinning out around you as you clawed through barbed wire fencing, not caring where you were going or what would happen to you—just needing to escape.

There was nothing left for you to do after that but survive. And that’s what you did, for years, scraping by in a world that had already chewed you up and spit you out a mangled mess.

You learned how to be ruthless because of it.

How to harden yourself against the loss, the pain, the brutality. But there were cracks, too. Cracks you hid well, buried deep beneath layers of stubbornness and distance.

The endless days blurred into each other. Empty houses, hollow streets. A life reduced to scavenging, hiding, and the occasional, fleeting moment of human connection that inevitably ended in loss.

And then you found yourself with Joel.

You hadn’t exactly found him, though. More like crashed into his orbit by accident.

A few desperate days spent scavenging through the ruins of a small town, a chance encounter that left you both wary and unwilling to turn your backs.

But, inexplicably, you somehow became part of his traveling routine.

He wasn’t like any of the others you’d met before. At first, you thought he might be different. A man who seemed broken, but different nonetheless.

As the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, you began to see the truth. Joel Miller wasn’t concerned with you. He didn’t need you. And, more than that, he didn’t want you around.

You didn’t know what to do with that.

It’s a bitter kind of irony. You’ve survived all this time completely on your own, fought tooth and nail to stay alive, but with him, you might just crumble.

Joel found a lodge house. It's a small, weathered place tucked away in the dense trees of the wood surrounding it.

He only deemed it suitable after an extensive perimeter check and a thorough sweep of the interior.

It's not much—just another run-down place in the middle of nowhere—but for the first time in what feels like forever, it’s a roof over your head for the night.

The walls are sturdy, though the windows are cracked and half of the floorboards creak like they're about to give out at any moment.

You explored the second floor alone, creeping through the desolate rooms and taking in all that was left behind.

Old family photographs covered in thick layers of dust, worn clothes riddled with holes still hung in the few closets you stumble across.

The oddest of all was an old jewelry box tucked away in a dresser draw, tarnished silver dull and muddy.

The sound of familiar footsteps comes from somewhere behind you. The door creaks open slowly.

Joel. Of course.

He clears his throat, the sound abrasive in the quiet of the house.

“Fire’s low,” he says, voice rough from its lack of use today.

You don’t turn around, not yet. You take the box in your gloved hand, running your fingers across the intricate design of the lid, touch trailing over winding vines and small roses.

“Okay,” you mutter, your voice coming out quieter than you intended. “I’ll grab some more wood later.”

Another beat of silence. Then, “It’s gettin’ cold out, I’ll go.”

Your fingers pause their ministrations, moving to flip the lid open. Empty.

“Suit yourself,” you reply after a moment, your tone just as neutral as his.

Joel doesn’t leave right away. You hear the floorboards groan beneath his weight, his presence lingering in the doorway.

You wonder what he’s waiting for, or if he’s waiting at all.

Finally, he speaks. “Don’t touch anything.”

With that he turns and leaves the room, you wait until you can’t hear his footsteps trailing down the stairs anymore to let out the scoff festering in your chest.

You snap the jewelry lid shut with a little more force than necessary. “Asshole.”

Joel's been gone for a while now. Longer than it takes to chop a few logs for firewood.

You came down from the upstairs a few minutes after hearing the tell-tale sound of the heavy door opening and closing. The main room is quiet, save for the soft crackle of the dwindling fire.

You're perched on an old armchair near the entrance, peering out the dirty window that has the best view of the treeline as you nervously pick the skin around your nails.

You tell yourself not to worry. He’s probably fine, he’s been doing this a lot longer than you. And if Joel is anything, it’s annoyingly competent.

Still, a nagging doubt itches at the back of your mind. It's been at least half an hour, maybe more.

You’re just about to grab your own pack and go looking for him when the front door creaks open.

Joel stumbles inside, the frigid evening air rushing in behind him before he slams the door shut. At first glance, he looks fine—no more haggard than usual.

But then you notice the way he favors his left side, the way his free hand is pressed against his ribs, blood seeping through his fingers and staining his torn undershirt.

You’re on your feet in an instant.

“Fuck,” you say, voice sharper than you expected. “What the hell happened?”

“Raiders.” Is the only explanation you get as he tries to brush past you like it’s nothing. The stiff way he moves and the tightens of his jaw betray him. “S’just a scratch.”

“Bullshit,” you snap, stepping in front of him and blocking his path to the fire. “Sit. Now.”

He gives you a look, one of those deep, withering glares you’ve seen him use to intimidate countless others into submission. But you stand your ground, chin raised and jaw set–defiant.

His stubbornness finally meeting its match in your own.

Finally, with a low growl of frustration, he drops onto the couch. “Happy now?”

"Not until you let me take care of that." You motion toward his side, where the blood is still spreading.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, lolling his head back to rest more heavily on the couch.

“Sure you are,” you snap, crossing the room to rifle through your bag. “And I’m the fucking Queen of England.”

"Said I’m fine," he bites through gritted teeth, but you’re already moving, heading back to him with the first aid kit from your pack.

"You want to bleed out on this ugly-ass couch? Be my guest," you shoot back, dropping to your knees in front of him. "Otherwise, shut up and let me help."

Joel surprisingly doesn’t argue any further, just sighs heavily and reluctantly sinks further into the couch cushions.

You push the front of his jacket open to slide it off his shoulders as gently as you can, peeling back the layer of his flannel next.

The smell of blood hits you immediately.

The gash is about five inches long, trailing the span of his ribcage. It’s deep—but not fatal—just an angry red and oozing blood.

Definitely not the simple 'scratch' he made it out to be.

Your stomach churns at the sight, but you push it down. No time for that.

“Jesus, Joel,” you mutter under your breath, reaching for the alcohol in your kit. “You really know how to underplay a situation, huh?”

He doesn’t respond, just watches you with those dark, calculating eyes of his. Always watching, always assessing.

It’s unnerving, but you focus on the task at hand, grabbing a clean cloth and soaking it with alcohol.

“This is gonna hurt,” you warn, though there’s a part of you that doesn’t mind the idea of causing him a little discomfort.

A petty, vindictive part that still stings from all the scorn he’s thrown your way.

“Just get it over with,” Joel grits out, his voice low and gravelly.

You don’t give him any more warnings as you wipe the soaked cloth over the wound. He flinches, a harsh curse slipping through clenched teeth, but he doesn’t pull away.

You work as quickly as you can, wiping away the blood and dirt with steady hands, your movements as gentle as possible given the situation.

You let out an annoyed huff when the torn fabric of his shirt gets in the way of your hands for a second time.

You lean back on your heels, glancing up at Joel. “You need to take your shirt off.”

Joel raises a brow at you, his lips pressing into a thin line. “That really necessary?”

“Yes, it’s necessary, Joel,” you huff, already losing patience. “Unless you want me to sit here and cut around every thread of this ratty thing while you bleed out, then by all means—”

He sighs heavily, cutting you off as he shifts forward and grabs the hem of his shirt. He tugs at the fabric, grunting in pain each time it strains his ribs.

You roll your eyes at how slow he’s moving, and your patience—already worn thin by the day's events—snaps.

“Jesus Christ, let me help,” you huff, reaching forward and grabbing the fabric.

Joel jerks back slightly, his hand shooting up to stop yours mid-motion. “I got it,” he growls, a sharp edge in his voice.

You glare at him, your hand still caught in his grip. His palm is calloused, his hold firm enough to make your pulse jump unexpectedly.

For a moment, the two of you just sit there, locked in a silent standoff.

Then he releases your hand and pulls the shirt over his head himself, wincing as the movement pulls at his side.

You wait with your arms crossed, trying to ignore the awkward flutter of nerves in your stomach as the fabric peels away to reveal his chest.

Joel’s broad, solid frame isn’t new to you. You’ve seen him shirtless before—brief glimpses when bathing in rivers or changing in run down houses between stops.

But this time feels different, more intimate somehow.

You’re staring, and you know it.

The firelight cast shadows over his skin, illuminating old scars, faint lines of muscle, the barely there jut of his stomach over the hem of his jeans.

You had been getting more game kills recently, two hunters are always better than one.

Joel clears his throat, dragging your focus back to the present. “You gonna gawk all night, or can we move this along?”

You snap out of it, scowling to cover your embarrassment. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

You finish cleaning the gash and grab the small needle and thread lying next to you.

“This’ll hurt worse than the alcohol,” you say, threading the needle easily.

Joel snorts, a rare sound. “Figures.”

The needle pierces his skin, and this time, you catch the smallest hitch in his breath. He doesn’t make a sound, but his jaw tightens, the veins in his neck standing out like cords.

His hands grip the edge of the couch hard enough that his knuckles turn white with it, but he doesn’t tell you to stop or slow down.

He’s too damn proud for that.

You shift closer, your knee brushing against his leg as you position yourself to work from a better angle. You feel his eyes on you, that intense, scrutinizing stare that makes your skin prickle.

“You’ve done this before,” Joel says after a moment, his tone less sharp than before. It’s not quite a question, more of an observation.

You shrug, keeping your hands steady. “Of course I have.”

“Who taught you?”

The question catches you off guard, Joel’s never shown much interest in what your life was before you met him. You glance up briefly, catching his gaze. There’s no malice there, no judgment—just curiosity.

You swallow hard, dragging your eyes back to stitches, half way done now. “My sister.”

You don’t elaborate and Joel doesn’t push.

Maybe it’s the sudden tightness in your tone or the look you know must be clouding your face that keeps him quiet.

You finish off the stitching, tearing the thin strand of thread with your hands before you’re leaning away again.

“Good as new,” you say, dabbing some more alcohol on your own hands to disinfect. “Try not to tear these open anytime soon.”

Joel leans back, strong arms spread across the back of the couch, his face unreadable as he peers down at the fresh stitching on his side.

“Could’ve done it myself,” he mutters, but the edge in his voice is gone, replaced with something softer, almost resigned.

You roll your eyes with a scoff, not even trying to hide your irritation as you rise from the floor. “Sure you could’ve, right before you passed out. You’re welcome by the way.”

You gather your supplies and turn to head back to your bag, but Joel’s voice stops you in your tracks.

“You’re always like this, y’know,” he says, and the words carry that same gravelly drawl, but there’s something new there—something heavier.

You pause, your hands tightening around the kit in your grasp. “Like what?”

“Pushy. Stubborn,” he replies, his tone cutting, though it lacks the usual venom. “Like you’ve got somethin’ to prove all the damn time.”

You whip around, your patience officially gone. “You think I’m stubborn?” you shoot back, your voice rising. “Coming from the guy who would rather bleed out on a fucking couch than admit he needs help?”

Joel’s jaw tightens, and his hands flex against the couch cushions, but you don’t stop. Not now. Not after months of this.

“I’ve been busting my ass since day one to prove that I’m not dead weight to you. I’ve fought for us, for you. And for what? Just to get more of your bullshit attitude?”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about,” Joel snaps, pushing himself upright despite the obvious strain it puts on his freshly stitched wound. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me.”

“Because you won’t let me!” you fire back, stepping closer, your voice rising. “All you do is look at me like I’m some burden you can’t wait to get rid of.”

Joel’s glare sharpens, his lips parting as if to respond, but you cut him off.

You really can’t stop yourself now that you started, all the anger and frustration reaching a fever pitch hot enough to burst the tight lid you’ve kept on your emotions.

“If I’m such a hassle, why didn’t you just leave me back there, huh? Why didn’t you just walk away like I know you wanted to?”

Joel’s breathing is heavier now, his broad chest rising and falling as his dark eyes bore into yours.

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. Then, he stands, and the sheer size of him forces you to tilt your chin up slightly to keep your glare fixed on his face.

“You think I wanted this, kid?” he growls, his voice low and strained, like he’s barely holding himself together. “You think I wanted to be responsible for someone else? To have someone else’s fuckin’ life on me?”

“Don’t call me kid,” you spit, shoving a finger into his chest, ignoring the way his jaw ticks at the contact. “I’m not a fucking kid.”

He scoffs, casting his eyes to the ceiling disbelievingly. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Fuck you, Joel,” you growl, fists clenching at your side. “If you hate me that much, why the hell are you still here? Why didn’t you tell me to fuck off the second you met me?”

“Because I couldn’t!” Joel snaps, booming voice filling the small space.

The confession slips out like it pains him. His fists clench at his sides, and for a moment, he looks like he might break something.

You’ve never been scared of Joel, even though you’ve seen first hand just how scary he can be.

Now, as he looms in front of you, eyes blazing and jaw working furiously beneath his skin, it’s the closest to scared you’ve felt.

“I’ve seen you out there,” he continues, tone low and dark. “You’ve got a fuckin’ death wish. You’re too damn stubborn to just stop, and I’m not gonna let you go so you can run off and get yourself fuckin’ killed.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, his words hitting far too close to home.

“I’m just trying to survive, Joel,” you snap, your voice shaking. “That’s what we do, isn’t it? Survive.”

“Survive,” Joel repeats bitterly, his gaze burning into yours. “That what you call it? Throwin’ yourself into every goddamn fight, gettin’ stabbed and shot right fuckin’ in front of me and expecting me to brush that shit off?”

You let out a humorless laugh, nodding your head exasperatedly. “Yes, yes I do expect you to just brush it off, because that’s what you always do.”

“Well I can’t,” he grates out, taking a step closer. “I can’t ‘cause despite whatever it is that you may think about me, I don’t hate you. I care about you too damn much and that's my goddamn problem.”

That shuts you up, your mouth snapping closed with a sharp click of your teeth as you stare at him, shocked.

Joel holds your gaze, lips pressed into a thin line. “That what you wanted to hear?”

It’s in that moment that the fire finally fizzles out, the dull hiss of it the only sound left in the room.

You’re quiet for a beat, stunned into silence. The heat of his anger, his frustration, it radiates off him, and you realize suddenly that this isn’t just about you.

It never was.

“Then show me,” you challenge softly, your heart pounding in your chest. “Show me that you don’t hate me.”

Joel’s eyes darken, his head cocking to the side as he searches your face for a sign. You don’t say anything, you only square your shoulders and raise your chin, your eyes just as hard as his own.

“I want you to prove it.”

The tension snaps like a rubber band stretched too far.

You shouldn’t—this shouldn’t—happen. Not like this. Not after everything that’s been said.

But when Joel’s lips crash against yours, hot and desperate and urgent, it makes everything blur into nothing.

It’s not gentle, not soft—this is anger and longing and frustration all wrapped into one. It’s messy, frantic, like a fight that’s been brewing for too long.

He grips your arm, pulling you closer, almost too roughly, but it feels like it’s everything you’ve both been avoiding.

His other hand moves to cup the back of your neck, grounding you as his lips press harder against yours, like he’s trying to pour everything he can’t say into this single moment.

You respond just as fiercely, nails digging into the skin of his shoulders as you kiss him back with all the pent-up emotion that’s been simmering beneath the surface.

The coarse hair of his beard scrapes against the skin of your chin deliciously, the scent of blood and firewood filling your senses as his arm wraps around your waist, dragging you impossibly closer.

Close enough that you can feel the wild beat of his heart booming against your chest.

You pull away for a second, breathless, both of you looking at each other, your eyes wide and pupils blown.

“Goddamn it,” Joel mutters, his voice thick with frustration and something else you can’t place. He presses his forehead to yours, the deep brown of his eyes dark than before. “What the hell are we doing?”

You don’t have an answer. You’re not sure if you even want one.

You reach for him again, arms looping around his neck to drag his mouth back to yours.

This kiss is nothing like the first, it isn’t a clash of frustration–it’s filthier, rawer. A near feral thing, all teeth and tongue, a surge of hunger and need that borders on violence.

Joel groans into your mouth, a low, guttural sound that sends a shiver racing down your spine. His teeth catch your bottom lip, pulling just hard enough to make you gasp.

He takes advantage of the sound, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to slide against yours with wet, messy desperation, like he’s trying to claim every inch of you.

The taste of him—salt and iron and something distinctly Joel—makes your head spin.

Your fingers knot into the chocolaty curls at the nape of his neck, surprisingly soft to the touch. His own hands roam the soft curves of your body, rough and insistent, like he can’t decide where he wants to touch you most.

“Joel—” His name spills from your lips like a plea, and he answers with a deep, guttural noise that sends heat pooling low in your belly. His tongue follows the path of his teeth, soothing the bites with lazy, deliberate strokes that make your knees weak.

You’re moving before you even realize it. Joel dragging you across the room and down onto the couch with him, using the strength he’s built up after all these years to manhandle you until your thighs are spread wide on either side of his lap.

“Joel,” you gasp again, rearing back enough to break the kiss. “Your stitches–”

He cuts you off with a sharp nip to the sensitive spot behind your ear, tearing a high whine from your throat. “Can hardly feel ‘em.”

You make a displeased sound, but it’s undermined by the way you tilt your head to give his wandering lips more room. His hands find a home on your hips, one slipping beneath your shirt to press against the soft skin of your stomach.

His fingers splay wide across your skin, his palm callused and rough. His pinky just barely brushes the underside of your breast, and you’re suddenly rearing back.

“Wait,” you say, your voice barely a whisper.

Joel’s hands immediately loosen their grip on your hips, his brows knitting together in concern. “You okay?”

You nod quickly, your heart pounding in your chest. “I just...I need to tell you something.”

His jaw tightens slightly, but he stays quiet, waiting for you to speak.

You take a beat, chewing at the skin of your bottom lip nervously.

“I’ve never...” You pause, swallowing hard as your cheeks heat up. “I’ve never done this before. I mean, I’ve never been with anyone like this.”

Joel pulls back slightly, his expression unreadable as he processes your words. For a moment, you think he might pull away completely, but then he exhales a long, slow breath.

“Christ,” he mutters, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You’re tellin’ me this now?”

“I didn’t exactly plan for this to happen,” you snap back, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “It’s not like I had the luxury of a high school sweetheart to pop my cherry out here.”

Joel’s gaze softens at your tone, and he reaches out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. “Hey, hey, I didn’t mean it like that.”

You glance away, suddenly feeling self-conscious under the weight of his stare. “I just...I wanted you to know. But I want this, Joel. I want you.”

His thumb stills against your cheek, and he swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing as he considers your words.

“I don’t...” He pauses, the most hesitant you’ve ever heard him. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

It’s the most vulnerable he’s been around you, round eyes shining with something so raw and so earnest it makes your heart ache in your chest.

“You won’t,” you insist, your voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach. “I trust you.”

Joel’s jaw clenches, and for a moment, he looks like he’s going to argue. But then he nods, his shoulders relaxing as he cups the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your foreheads touch again.

“At least let me do this right,” he murmurs, his voice so soft you almost don’t hear it. “Not here. Not on some goddamn couch.”

You blink up at him, surprised by the tenderness in his tone. “What?”

“Upstairs,” he says, his thumb tracing lazy circles against the side of your neck. “There’s a bed up there. It ain’t much, but it’s better than this.”

You can’t do anything but nod, your pulse racing beneath your skin fast enough to combat the cold night air seeping through the walls.

“Okay,” you say softly, voice barely above a whisper. “Upstairs.”

Joel stands, gently pulling you to feet and taking your hand in his. He leads you upstairs, each step feeling heavier with anticipation. The small bedroom is dimly lit, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through a broken blind.

The bed isn’t much—an old mattress on a worn frame, covered with a patched-up blanket—but it doesn’t matter.

Joel shuts the door behind you, the sound of the latch clicking into place sending a shiver down your spine.

“Last chance,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “You say the word, and we stop. No questions asked.”

Your throat tightens at the sincerity in his tone, the way he’s giving you an out even though you can see the strain in every line of his body, the way his hands flex at his sides like he wants nothing more than to reach out and touch you.

But you don’t hesitate.

You step closer, placing your hands on his bare chest. You bite back a smile at the goosebumps that break out all along his skin at your touch.

“Jesus, Miller,” you mumble teasingly, nails lightly scratching through the salt and pepper hair scattered along his chest. “How long are you gonna drag this out before you get it through your thick skull that I want to fuck you?”

"Christ." Joel huffs, shaking his head as the corners of his lips turn up in a small grin. “Like I fuckin’ said,” he starts, big hands kneading the meat of your hips. “Pushy.”

Joel walks you backward until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, and you fall onto it with a soft gasp.

He follows you immediately, crawling over you, his body covering yours, his weight a comforting pressure. “I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours. “I’ll make it good for you, I swear.”

His fingers are everywhere, unbuttoning your shirt with a practiced ease that has your pulse racing. His lips follow the path of his hands, each touch a branding mark, each kiss leaving you wanting more.

“Pretty girl,” he mutters softly, pressing a kiss right between the valley of your breasts.

You feel his cock stirring against your stomach, and it makes the ache between your legs flare to life, the weight of it, the hardness of it, driving you crazy with need.

You want him so badly you can barely think straight, but when his lips graze over your collarbone, you can’t stop the quiet whine that escapes your throat.

Joel growls in response, a sound that resonates deep in his chest, and you know then that he’s as far gone as you are. His hands slide down to the waistband of your pants, tugging them down your legs with urgency.

As your skin is exposed to the cool air, you can feel the heat of his gaze on you, like he’s memorizing every inch of you.

“You’re fuckin' perfect,” he mutters, his voice thick with desire.

Joel's hands find your thighs, parting them with a deliberate slowness that makes your breath catch in your throat. He positions himself between your legs, his body weight pressing you into the mattress, his chest rising and falling with the same frantic rhythm as yours.

The anticipation is almost unbearable as his fingers trace the line of your panties, the fabric damp with want.

“Jesus, she’s drippin’ for me already,” he mutters, voice rough, as he slides the material to the side, his thumb brushing over the sensitive swell of your clit.

Your body jerks at the contact, a desperate sound escaping your lips, but Joel doesn’t relent.

“You touch yourself down here, baby?” he asks, working tortuously slow circles over your clit.

"Please," you beg, your hands grasping at the sheets, pulling at them as if they can anchor you to the moment.

He looks up at you, his gaze dark and filled with an intensity that makes your stomach tighten. “Asked you a question, honey.”

You whine, high and loud in your throat as your thighs clench desperately around his wrist. “Yes, I touch myself.”

Joel’s lips curl into a satisfied grin, sliding his thick index finger through the messy wetness to slip inside your clenching hole, making you gasp. Your hands grasp at the sheets, pulling at them as if they can anchor you to the moment.

“Good girl,” he breathes, eyes darkening at the broken moan that bursts from your lips. “When’s the last time you touched yourself?”

Your brain feels hazy as you search for the answer, pleasure clouding your mind slow and sweet as molasses. “A–a few nights ago.”

Joel hums idly, slipping a second finger alongside the first. The stretch has you whining, his fingers a lot more to take than your own.

Your hands come up to claw at his shoulders, relishing in the way his broad muscle ripples and shifts beneath your greedy palms.

“Joel,” you whine, hips canting down against his hand impatiently.

He just shushes you softly, free hand brushing soothing circles along the skin of your inner thigh. “I know, honey,” he mutters, the pace fingers speeding up. “But I gotta get her nice and ready if you wanna take my cock.”

The gush of your pussy around his fingers is loud in the stillness of the room, a filthy wet noise that burns your ears each time he plunges them into your aching hole.

“I am ready.” Your breath hitches as your body begins to tremble beneath him. “Please, Joel—fuck—please, I need—”

“Need what?” His voice is thick with dark amusement, but there's a hunger in his eyes that has your stomach twisting. “Tell me, baby. What do you need?”

“I need you,” you rasp, your nails digging little crescent moons into his skin, your body pleading for release. “I need you inside me.”

Your hands grab at his hair, pulling him back up to meet your lips in a feverish kiss.

The pressure of his body on yours, the way his hard cock grinds against your trembling thigh, drives you to the brink of madness.

Your hands trail down his chest, past the waistband of his jeans, finally reaching the bulge straining against the fabric.

Joel groans when you rub him through his pants, feeling his cock twitch in response. He pulls back, breathing heavily, his lips curling into a smirk.

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice thick with lust. “You want my cock in this pretty pussy? Want me to show you how good it feels to be fucked?”

“God, yes,” you answer, desperation lacing your tone as your hand moves to unbuckle his jeans. “Want it so bad.”

He lets you push his pants down just enough to free his cock, and you gasp, your eyes drawn to the way his length stands, thick and hard, just waiting for you. The tip flushed an angry red, drooling pre-come onto the scratchy sheets.

Joel pulls his fingers from you, using his hands spreading your legs wider, positioning himself between them with such careful precision that you can barely stand it.

The head of his cock drags through the mess between your legs, slipping all the way down till it catches on your soaked entrance.

Joel pauses, looking down at you, waiting for your signal, but the only answer you give is a pleading whimper, your hands pulling at his shoulders, urging him to move.

His mouth captures yours once again as he slowly slides into you, the stretch of his cock filling you steadily, making you gasp into his mouth.

The slow burn of him carving a place for himself inside of you is almost too much, your body trembling as you adjust to the feeling of him.

“Fuck, baby,” Joel mutters against your lips. “You’re so tight, so fuckin’ perfect for me.”

As he sinks deeper into you, his thick cock finally buried to the hilt inside of you, the feeling is overwhelming. You gasp, nails digging into his back as the pain slowly shifts into pleasure.

Joel groans into your mouth, his hands moving to your hips, guiding you as he rocks gently against you.

The rhythm is slow at first, deliberate, as if he's savoring every inch of you. Your body quivers beneath him, every inch of your skin tingling with sensation. You clutch at him, your legs tightening around his waist, needing more, wanting more.

"That's it," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "Take it, baby."

You screw your eyes shut tightly, trying to steady yourself as he thrusts deeper, harder. The angle shifts just enough to make your breath catch in your throat.

Every stroke feels like it’s hitting the deepest part of you, sparking heat in places you never knew could burn so hot.

"Fuck," you gasp, the sensation too overwhelming, too much in the best way. "Joel... please..."

"Please what, sweetheart?" He pulls back slightly, teasing you with a slow roll of his hips before driving back in with a grunt.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, urging him to move faster, harder. "Don’t stop," you breathe, your voice trembling. "I need you to fuck me, Joel. Faster. Harder. Please."

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as Joel finally picks up the pace, each thrust harder and deeper than the last.

Your back arches off the bed, chest pressing flush to his as your body coils tighter and tighter, already so close to the edge.

Joel reaches up to take your wrist in his, dragging your hand down to press flat against your lower stomach.

“Feel that?” he asks breathlessly, the speed of his hips knocking the dingy bed frame into the wall with every thrust. “You feel how deep I am?”

His own hand blankets yours, pushing down so you can feel the way his cock punches up against your palm on the next thrust.

Your pussy clenches desperately around him at the feeling, your slick lips dropping open on a loud moan.

You can barely hold on. The heat in your stomach tightens, coiling painfully as your free hand scrambles to find purchase on his skin. "I can't—I'm gonna—"

He grits his teeth, his jaw clenched as he drives deeper, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "Come for me, baby," he growls, his voice dark and commanding. "Let me feel it."

With a strangled cry, you finally release, your body clenching around him, every nerve igniting in a white-hot explosion of pleasure.

You’re lost in it, your world spinning, your senses overwhelmed by the sensation of Joel’s body pounding into yours, the way his cock brushes against that sweet spot behind your clit enough to make sparks go off behind your eyelids.

Joel pulls out of your velvety warmth, hand coming up to fist his dripping length until he’s bowing over you tightly and coming with a deep groan of your name.

His release paints your stomach with milky strands of white, rope after rope of warm come claiming you in a way no one has before.

He finally collapses against you with one last shuddering breath, both of you breathing heavily, your chests rising and falling together in the quiet aftermath.

For a few moments, neither of you speaks, the only sounds are the soft creak of the bed and the quiet hum of your racing hearts.

Joel rests his head against your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin, and you can feel the tension begin to slip away, the weight of everything that’s happened between you both settling into something new—something different, but still there.

Your hand slips down the sweaty expanse of your stomach, your fingers swiping through the sticky mess of his release curiously.

“Christ, quit that,” Joel groans, tearing his eyes away from the sight to press his forehead against your shoulder.

“Why?” you hum, brow raised in amusement as you drop your hand back to the mattress. “Can you even get it up again?”

Joel pinches your side hard enough to make you squeal, your body flinching away from him as a surprised laugh bubbles from your chest.

“Watch it,” he warns, though there’s no bite to his tone. You only laugh in response.

The two of you settle into a comfortable silence, wrapped in each other as crickets chirp from outside the window.

Then Joel clears his throat, fingers idly tracing different shapes on the skin of your hip as he gathers the courage to speak.

A circle, a square, a diamond, a circle, a heart, a heart, a heart.

“I’m…” he starts, trailing off softly. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a real fuckin’ prick, and you didn’t deserve it. You never did.”

You turn your own gaze to his chest, hand coming up so you can trail your fingers along the jagged scar decorating his shoulder. Your touch featherlight over the rough patch of skin.

All the anger seeps from your body, a heavy weight gone until you feel so light you could float off the mattress and into the cold night air.

“It’s okay,” you whisper softly, so soft you think it gets lost in the quiet darkness of the room. “I understand now.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you both just lay there, tangled in each other, not worrying about the world outside, about the chaos that waits.

Just you, him, and the soft glow of moonlight.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

mini nat's note: should i add joel to my taglist...i do kinda want to write more for him in the future but i'm not sure yet...lmk chickens <3 bee tee dubs sorry the ending absolutely sucks i could not for the life of me figure out how to end this LMAO

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rafecameronssl4t · 1 day ago

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73 Questions with Vogue || Drew Starkey x fem!reader

Summary: Actress!reader participating in 73 Questions with Vogue and it goes viral!!!

Warnings: fluff!!!

Word count: 1,935

A/n: It's been so long since I've written a Drew fic!!!!!!! Also I got inspired by my previous acc's fic so if it seems familiar to some of you who followed me from there, don't come at me, I loved the idea too much lol. CAN SOMEONE PLS SEND ME REQUESTS FOR DREW FICS???

MASTERLIST

divider by @h-aewo

"Hello!" You greet the interviewer with a bright smile, swinging open the door to reveal him and his camera. "Hi, Y/n! Mind if we come in and ask you 73 questions?" he asks, his tone friendly and warm. "Yeah, of course! Come on in," you say, stepping aside and holding the door wide open, gesturing for them to enter as the camera pans through the foyer of your house. The space is beautifully designed, with soft lighting that gives it a cozy, inviting atmosphere.

"Wow, what a gorgeous house you have," the interviewer remarks, his voice filled with genuine awe as his eyes take in the sophisticated yet comfortable décor. "Thank you!" you respond, the compliment warming you as you flash a radiant smile. "Is this your favourite house?" The interviewer asks, already settling into the rhythm of the questions as you lead them down the hallway and into the open-plan living area.

"Yes, it definitely is. It's in my home city, and Charleston means so much to me, just like this house does," you say, your eyes lighting up as you gesture around. The view of the beach through the large windows makes the space feel even more special. "I love the view," the interviewer comments, looking out at the sunset that bathes the room in warm golden light. "The sunset looks amazing from here."

"It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?" you say with a soft chuckle. "I love spending time in this room specifically. It feels like a little sanctuary." You both share a laugh, enjoying the peaceful moment. "What's your morning routine like?" The interviewer asks as the camera follows you through the coastal-themed living room toward the kitchen. You pause for a moment, thinking about your answer.

"I haven't had much of a routine the past few months because of work, but currently, I wake up to a strong cup of coffee and a walk through downtown," you share with a soft smile. "It’s become a little ritual to clear my mind before everything gets too busy." As you stroll through the warm, inviting spaces of your home, the camera captures the personal touches that reflect your personality—a mix of elegance and laid-back comfort.

A question about your career comes next, and you happily share some behind-the-scenes anecdotes from your latest film. "This," you begin, the affection in your tone unmistakable, "is a magnet Sydney gave me when we wrapped filming Immaculate earlier this year." You glance at the picture, a grin spreading across your face. "It’s a photo of the two of us in our nun costumes... let’s just say, not doing very nun-like things." You laugh, the absurdity of the memory still fresh, and hold the magnet up for the camera to focus.

The image shows the two of you mid-laughter, each holding a cigarette with exaggerated defiance, your habits slightly askew, as though caught mid-rebellion. "What's the best compliment you've received?" the interviewer asks, a hint of curiosity in their voice. You pause, your expression thoughtful. "Oh, that's a tough one," you say, your lips curling into a playful smile.

"I think the best compliment I’ve ever gotten was when someone said, 'You're like Meryl Streep… but, you know, with fewer Oscars.’" You chuckle, shaking your head in amusement. "It was the kind of backhanded compliment that made me laugh for days." The interviewer laughs along with you. "That’s a good one," he says, clearly entertained. As you make your way towards the outside deck, the interviewer continues with another question. "Texting, calling, or FaceTiming?"

You grin as you lean casually against the railing, looking out at the beach below. "Oh, definitely FaceTiming," you say with a mischievous glint in your eyes. "I’m terrible at replying to text messages. I’d much rather see people's live reactions, y’know?" A more personal question comes next, and you smile thoughtfully as the interviewer asks, “How do you handle the pressures of fame?”

You nod, taking a moment before responding. "I lean on my family and friends—they keep me grounded. And I remind myself that pressure is a privilege. It means people care about what I do, and that means a lot." Your voice softens as you speak, the sincerity of your words clear as you step into your home office, showcasing the awards and accolades lining the shelves. The conversation turns to your personal life, and a warm, affectionate smile spreads across your face.

"Congratulations on reaching your two-year anniversary with Drew!" The interviewer says with a grin, and you beam in response. "Thank you!" you reply, your eyes sparkling as you think of him. "Drew is incredible. He’s my biggest supporter, my partner in everything, and honestly, just my favourite person. It’s been such a special journey since starting my career, and I’m so grateful to have him by my side."

"What's the key to a successful relationship?" He asks. You pause as you walk through the hallway, your gaze softening as you think. "I think it’s communication and a lot of patience. No relationship is perfect, but being able to talk things through and genuinely listen to each other makes all the difference." You smile, adding, "Oh, and laughter—if you can laugh together, you can get through just about anything."

The sound of the front door creaking open interrupts the moment, and a familiar voice rings out, instantly making your face light up. "Oh, there’s Drew right now!" you say, smiling brightly as you move toward the foyer. The camera follows you, capturing the scene as Drew enters, with Nellie, your cocker spaniel, bounding beside him. "Hey, baby," He greets you as he slips off his sunglasses, pulling you close for a tender kiss

When he pulls back, his eyes widen slightly as he spots the camera. "Oh, 73 Questions with Vogue?" he asks, a playful grin tugging at his lips. You giggle, nodding your head. "I forgot you were doing that today," he chuckles. “Go ahead, continue your interview," he adds with a fond look before walking off with Nellie. As the camera returns to you, you make your way toward the stairs, glancing over your shoulder to find Drew already on the floor, happily playing with Nellie.

A soft giggle escapes your lips, captured by the camera momentarily fixated on the fleeting connection. "What's something people don’t know about you?" the interviewer asks, pulling you back into the conversation. You pause, thinking for a second. "I’m actually allergic to most flowers," you reveal with a sheepish laugh. "Really? I wouldn’t have known," the interviewer responds, clearly surprised. "Oh, absolutely! When we film Outer Banks, they have to shoot around the flowers, or I'd be a sneezing mess," you confess, casually walking backward while maintaining a steady gaze with the camera.

The tour continues through luxurious walk-in closet, filled with designer attire. “What’s your pet peeve?” You laugh, shaking your head in mock exasperation. "Oh, definitely when people chew loudly. It’s like nails on a chalkboard for me. Chase is notorious for doing it on purpose, so I avoid him during my lunch breaks," you add, giggling at the memory. "Where was the best vacation you’ve been taken to?" the interviewer inquires as you step into your shared bedroom with Drew, the ocean stretching out just outside the windows.

"I think I’d have to say Vienna with Drew for my birthday," you say, smiling over your shoulder as you look out at the view. “A song you replay often?” "Hm, I think Charlie, Last Name Wilson," you say with a grin, rifling through the records. "It never gets old, and it’s super catchy." You smile as you pick it out. "Most of you guys would know that this song is also Drew and Austin’s favourite, so we always play it on set," you chuckle.

"Does the rest of the Outer Banks cast like it too?" the interviewer asks, laughing along. "They don’t have much choice," you joke with a grin.

"Is there anything from any set that you've taken home with you?" The interviewer asks eagerly. "The interviewer questions as you giggle, clapping your hands. ""Oh, I love this question!" you exclaim, opening a drawer to reveal a variety of souvenirs. "This is the bag my character 'Whiskey' from Glass Onion owned," you say, showing off the brown frill bag. "And here’s a pack of Italian cigarettes from Immaculate, they’re just props, by the way," you add with a wink.

You pull out a cowboy hat. "This one’s from Tom on the set of Billy the Kid," you explain. "And this," you say with a smile, holding up a ring on a necklace. "This is Rafe's ring, the one he gave my character." "What a beautiful photo of the two of you," the interviewer notes, pointing to the large black-and-white photo of you and Drew at a Vogue photoshoot above your bed.

"It is! That day was actually so special for us. We both got the call saying we’d been cast in our respective roles that we’d been auditioning for," you explain, your face lighting up with nostalgia. The interviewer then asks about Drew’s upcoming movie. "Speaking of which, Drew’s film Queer is coming out very soon. Are you excited to watch it on the big screen?" "Yes, of course!" you say, your voice full of pride.

"I was so incredibly proud of him when he got the role. He was definitely excited too, especially since it’s, you know, the Luca Guadagnino." You chuckle. "I got the privilege to actually be on set for a bit, and it was amazing. Plus, I got to catch up with Daniel," you mention. "It was really nice to see him again." You smile, the pride evident in your expression as you talk about Drew's accomplishments.

The conversation is interrupted by a gentle knock at the door, and both you and the interviewer turn your attention toward it. Drew’s head peeks around the corner, his grin lighting up the frame as the camera zooms in on him. "I made some iced teas—yours is half and half," he says casually, stepping into the room with a tray holding two glasses. You can’t help but beam as he hands you your drink. "Aww, thanks, babe," you say gratefully, your fingers brushing his for a brief moment as you take the glass.

Drew hands the other glass to the interviewer, who looks pleasantly surprised. "Wow, thank you, Drew!" he says with a wide smile. "Of course," Drew replies warmly before glancing at you. "Let me know if you need anything else," he says, shooting you a quick wink before stepping out of the room. The camera lingers on him for a beat as he walks away, capturing his effortless charm.

You take a sip of the iced tea, the cool, refreshing taste spreading through you as you let out a content sigh. "Is this something you drink often?" the interviewer asks, clearly curious. You nod enthusiastically. "Oh, absolutely. I like mine half and half, and I drink it like 24/7," you say with a chuckle, the glass still in your hand. The interviewer grins before asking a more personal question. "I can tell Drew is very thoughtful. What’s your favourite trait of his?"

You laugh softly, caught off guard by the difficult question. "You can’t make me choose—I love everything about him!" you say with a playful grin, your tone light but sincere. The interviewer chuckles along with you, clearly charmed by your response. "Okay, okay, fair enough. But if you had to pick just one thing that comes to mind?"

You pause for a moment, your expression softening as you think. "Hmmm," you hum, swirling your iced tea absentmindedly. "I love the little things he does," you begin, your voice warm with affection. "Like how he always remembers my coffee order or when he leaves me little notes when I’m on set. It’s those small, thoughtful moments that really mean the most to me."

The camera captures your tender smile, and the interviewer smiles himself, visibly touched by your response. "That’s so sweet," he says, his tone genuine. "It really is," you smile, a soft, almost bashful grin spreading across your face. "He’s the best boyfriend I could have ever asked for," you say, your tone filled with warmth and sincerity.

The interviewer watches you with an amused smile, clearly endeared by the dreamy, almost schoolgirl-like look on your face as you think about Drew.

The Vogue 73 Questions interview quickly becomes an internet sensation, captivating fans. It was everywhere. Clips of your candid answers and sweet, unscripted moments—especially the one where Drew casually walked in with iced tea—became the ultimate proof of why you were Hollywood’s darling. Within hours of its release, the hashtag #73QuestionsWithY/n trends worldwide.

The comments section was flooded with fans losing their minds over the glimpse into your life. "Can we talk about how Drew KNOWS her iced tea order by heart? If this isn’t relationship goals, I don’t know what is." "Y/n casually being gorgeous, funny, and real in her Charleston dream home? I’m in love." "The way Drew looked at her when he walked in… I CAN’T. He’s so whipped, and I’m here for it."

Memes circulate, celebrating your witty remarks and playful demeanor, while your thoughtful insights and open vulnerability spark heartfelt discussions. The part where Drew sneaks into the interview with iced tea becomes a fan-favourite, with many dubbing it "the cutest boyfriend moment of the year."

“I love how real she is,” one fan tweeted, accompanied by screenshots of your answer about Drew’s little notes and coffee orders. Another post with a screenshot of you laughing at Drew’s confused “Oh, Vogue’s here” reaction read, “You can just tell they’re best friends. I want a love like this.”

The media couldn’t get enough, either. Everyone from gossip sites to prestigious magazines weighed in on how you’d managed to blend the glamour of your career with the warmth of your personality. The buzz reignites interest in your past projects and elevates anticipation for your upcoming ones. Your social media following soars as fans, old and new, praise your ability to remain grounded despite your success.

Meanwhile, Drew’s small but sweet cameo sparks renewed admiration for your relationship, with countless threads and videos dedicated to celebrating your bond. “Y/n and Drew are proof that true love exists,” one viral tweet declares, garnering thousands of likes and retweets. Another fan edits together a montage of your cutest moments from the interview, set to a romantic song, which quickly racks up millions of views.

Drew couldn’t stop teasing you about how viral the iced tea moment had become. “You’re lucky I didn’t walk in shirtless,” he joked one night as you scrolled through TikTok, finding yet another edit of you two. “Please,” you said, giggling, your hand affectionately stroking Nellie, “half the internet would’ve fainted.” “Half?” He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “I think you’re underestimating me, babe.”

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syoddeye · 1 day ago

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cut me down, level me | ghoap x reader | 3.2k cw: alcohol, jealous reader, nasty+mean ghost, harassment, nonconsensual touching/manhandling, masturbation a/n: title from i wish i was you by creux lies.

it’s johnny’s birthday.

you grouse the entire time you get ready. mood utterly unsalvageable even with the right playlist. the emergency bottle of prosecco in your refrigerator can’t rescue you either—it’s turned sour and vinegary, probably like the evening ahead.

johnny texts, his message asking for your eta littered with typos. he’s sent it not in your private chat, but the one with his worse half.

he promised, repeatedly, that simon, the principal pain in your ass that—“he’ll be on his best behavior. hand on heart, i swear.”

you’ve heard that one before.

it doesn’t matter what you do. by the time the rideshare pulls up outside their flat, you half-consider staying in the car and heading straight back home. cozying up in bed with your laptop feels infinitely better than the prospect of enduring lousy company.

because for all johnny’s reassurances, you know simon. he’s the thorn in your side. the wedge between you and your best friend.

you were practically raised together after your family moved in next door. you spent as many holidays at the mactavish house as your own. even after johnny enlisted, nothing changed—you were still the first person he’d call with news, and he was still the one you trusted to share things you wouldn’t tell anyone else.

and then, two christmases ago, simon arrived. six-foot-something stupid, he muscled his way in, taking up more space than he had any right to, crowding into johnny’s life like he’d always been there.

“simon? it’s good to finally meet you. johnny talks about you all the time.” you’d said, hand extended, trying to make a good impression. neck craned to the man filling the doorframe. simon smirked, something flat and condescending in his voice as he replied, hand already hinging possessively around johnny’s nape.

“i thought only i could call you ‘johnny’. not ‘ow you make a man feel special, is it.”

you remember how he shouldered around you without another word, greeting the rest of the mactavishes with bourbon and presents like some drab mancunian santa claus.

johnny found you seething later that evening and delivered the first of a thousand apologies. said he was embarrassed by simon’s cold shoulder, and you forgave him—not because you believed him, but because you felt sorry that his boyfriend was a territorial buffoon.

a mistake.

you know couples spend most of their time together. you’re not stupid or naive enough to think they’d be any different, but somehow it’s worse. you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve spent with johnny one-on-one since they got together. simon’s always there, lurking. there’s no sharing with him.

you’ve tried to bring it up with johnny quietly, mostly over text, since phone calls and video chats are never private, but it’s like he can’t see his velcro boyfriend at his side. he doesn’t question it, not really. he’ll admit simon’s a bit rough around the edges, that his jokes cross the line or that his comments make your skin crawl, but he brushes them off. there’s always an excuse, some reason to overlook it. you just hope it’s only a matter of time before johnny sees simon for what he really is and breaks it off.

a no-good interloper, pissing on everything–

when you knock, it’s simon who answers the door. music spills out around him, voices rising and falling in the glow of light behind his broad shoulders. he looks at you, slow and deliberate, his eyes dragging from your shoes to your face, as if you’re a stranger. then he tilts his head in a silent well?

you’ve learned that it is you who must move around him, in all contexts. you are the invader. he doesn’t flinch when you cram under his thick arm braced against the door. he mutters a snide comment about the cut of your shirt—can see straight down that—breath fanning over your head. your face burns instantly, blistering hot. as you pass, the bottle of wine in your hand “accidentally” finds his ribs, and for a second, you feel a flicker of satisfaction.

“oops!”

you flee beeline for johnny.

he’s already tipsy, the lush, but he’s at least happy to see you.

“there she is.” his face is flushed from drink, and he pulls you into a bear hug, pressing a few sloppy kisses against your cheek. “i was just tellin’ simon it’s no’ my birthday without ye.”

you lean into him, briefly nuzzling his chest, breathing in his grounding scent. asshole boyfriend or not, how could you consider abandoning your boy?

“shameless flirt.”

“dinnae i ken it.”

he pouts when you peel away and excuse yourself, promising to find him after making the rounds.

you count maybe two dozen people spread through the house, a mix of old classmates, distant acquaintances, and soldiers. more arrive in waves, and you’re glad for the buffer. enough bodies between you and simon to keep him at a comfortable distance.

time moves in fits and starts. you drink enough to feel a buzz and resolve, half-heartedly, to enjoy yourself and mingle. there’s no shortage of good-looking men in johnny’s circle, and you might as well flirt a little. it seems like the kind of thing you should be doing, though your heart isn’t really in it.

you meet another john, polite but pointed about the ring on his finger. then kyle, who seems interested until he asks your name and then suddenly isn’t. after a couple more dead ends, you give up entirely, feeling more lousy than when you arrived. but it’s johnny’s birthday, and it’s bad form to leave before midnight. so, instead, you decide to keep to yourself and wait it out.

problem is, you start bumping into simon.

wherever you go—the den, the kitchen, the front steps for air—simon appears. he doesn’t make a show of following you, but you feel it all the same. his gaze finds you like a searchlight, dissecting you piece by piece. just waiting to say shit. his expression doesn’t shift when you glance his way, no shame in being caught staring. it’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking, but whatever it is, it doesn’t feel particularly benign. his presence settles like a weight on your back.

he doesn’t let you find any refuge with johnny, either. of course not. birthday boy is blissfully unaware, wrapped up in his own celebration, probably thinking simon’s sudden surge of public affection and attention are gifts. from across the room, simon’s gaze is heavy on you, his arm draped possessively around johnny’s waist, hand settling unashamedly on his ass for a grope. you catch his eye once, and without missing a beat, he leans in, planting a kiss behind johnny’s ear, making him squirm mid-conversation.

it pisses you off. curdles your bad mood into a rotten one.

with an hour left until midnight, you try to avoid simon as much as possible. it probably seems petty to slip away the moment he walks into a room or to retreat into silence when he lingers too close, but you don’t care. he’s stifling and unbearable—like he’s decided to babysit you to make sure you’re on your best behavior. and there’s no telling johnny. you won’t ruin the night for him by stirring up trouble.

at one point, you take too long at the makeshift bar in the kitchen, and he corners you mid-pour.

simon clicks his tongue, shifting his weight just enough to box you in with his chest and shoulders. “what’s that now, your fourth? fifth?” his voice is low, a rough-edged drawl, head dipping and chasing your ear when you try to duck away. “keep this up, sweet’eart, and you’ll be sleepin’ it off between us.” the grin that stretches his mouth feels too sharp, his eyes glinting as he leans in, the heat of him unnervingly close, his bulk a deliberate intrusion into your space.

the image his words conjure arrives unbidden, sending a disorienting jolt down your spine. you see yourself there, curled against johnny’s chest, while another, hulking body melding to your back, presence suffocating and unwanted. the thought lingers for a heartbeat before it vanishes in a rush of disgust, leaving you like a dog with its hackles raised, bristling with the instinct to flee.

you shove past, wine sloshing perilously close to the rim as you go, his rasping chuckle drifting after you.

another hour passes in a blur, but you salute yourself—only a quarter-hour to freedom. problem is, all that wine’s caught up, and the door to the downstairs toilet has been locked for a stretch. you cast a casual glance around, your eyes tracking the shape of your persistent shadow, and find him finally occupied with the other john, his back turned to you for the first time all evening. it’s a quick, maybe ill-advised decision to slip upstairs, but you really have no choice. you have to pee before you leave, and besides, it’s a teensy fuck you to the man who’s followed you all night.

the music from downstairs hums through the floor, covering your movements just enough that you don’t bother to tiptoe.

their bedroom is unfamiliar, but johnny’s presence clings to the space in bits and pieces. a framed photo of johnny in his first uniform, his mother leaning against his arm. an old rugby medal, propped against a stack of books, a few of which you gifted him. on the wall beside the bed, a collage of photos: summers at the mactavish cottage, christmas dinners with both your families, johnny mid-laugh with his arm slung casually around your shoulders in more than one.

you spot an old toy soldier from the same set johnny used to make elaborate battles with when you were kids. it sits next to a half-empty bottle of expensive bourbon you don’t recognize, probably something simon probably picked out. the mixture of old and new, of johnny and simon, is dizzying. jealousy wells up in your chest. you were there for all those moments. you knew him when he played soldier in the garden, when he rolled his eyes through family holidays and snuck you out at dessert. you were the constant, long before simon’s shadow overtook everything.

you slink into the bathroom, eyes stinging and chest tightening. it’s the wine.

washing your hands, your eyes land on a half-empty bottle of cologne you don’t recognize. while the rideshare app spins uselessly, you take a whiff and hum. it’s johnny’s. you rub a fingertip over the atomizer, too paranoid to take even a quarter-spray. the residual will have to do. instead, you press a fingertip to the atomizer, then smear a trace behind your ear just as the app pings. finally.

you pull the door open, eyes trained on the app’s countdown and mind tangling with how to say goodbye to johnny. you don’t notice the figure outside until you step straight into it, a solid wall of muscle. you stagger, caught off guard, but before you can register what’s happening, he presses forward, steering you back inside the bathroom. your phone drops to the counter with a clatter. a hand smelling of smoke and salt clamps over your mouth.

“stop fussin’,” simon mutters, clipped with irritation. his fingers dig into your cheeks, forcing your jaw tight as he leans back just far enough to shut the door. you batter his chest with your fists, which he swiftly captures when he swivels back. “i said stop. need to chat.”

your phone buzzes against the counter, the soft vibration loud against the marble. simon glances down, his expression darkening as he spots the car on the screen. with a tap of his thumb, he cancels the ride, lips curling into something that isn’t quite a smile. “sneakin’ out already? night’s young.”

your words are lost under his palm, protests garbled into nothing. heat flushes your face, humiliation prickling your skin as you try to twist free. glaring, you tell him how creepy he’s being, how weird he is, voice rising even though it’s barely audible. for a moment, his expression doesn’t shift, then something flickers behind his eyes, like a shark finding chum in the water. he leans in, his hips pinning yours, and his nose drags over where you’d rubbed the scent.

“you little thief,” he murmurs, voice thick with disdain. his hand eases just enough to let you speak.

“i thought it was johnny’s.” you finally say, throat tight, pulse fluttering at its base.

“it’s ours,” he sneers. “we share. everything.”

you scoff, the sound bitter in the small space between you. “you? don’t make me laugh.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

for a second, you stare in disbelief, chest heaving in shallow breaths. he still has you held against the counter, and you realize you smell it on him, too.

you can’t have just this one thing.

word vomit comes out in a rush, spliced with the fury and frustration that’s been building all night, no, for months, mixed with the tang of cheap pinot. “you fucking stole johnny from me. he was my best friend, my johnny, before you. i’ve called him that my whole life. and then you—you show up, sap up all of his attention, and now he never has time for me. it’s never just me and him, you’re always fucking there.” the confession hangs in the air. it is more honest than you meant, but there is no going back.

simon tilts his head, looking down at you like he’s trying to figure something out, his hand firm under your jaw. his fingers press in, not quite hard, just enough to keep you there, and then he leans in close, his forehead nearly touching yours. you try to look away, eyes darting to the side, but he won’t let you.

“’s that what you need? johnny’s attention?” his thumb drags over the curve of your cheek, pressing until it hooks inside your mouth. “my attention?”

“no-awh! no’ yoursth!”

your tongue brushes the pad of his thumb, a shudder rolling through you before you remember your teeth. he remembers too, yanking his thumb away just as your bite snaps shut, catching your tongue instead. you yelp, the sting immediate and hot.

he coos, low and mocking, his hand sealing over your mouth again. his weight presses you against the counter, pinning you effortlessly in place. your hands, useless against the unyielding plane of his chest, clutch at his forearm instead, desperate to free your face. then his knee jabs forward, knocking a muffled cry from your throat. the impact drives you onto your toes, the cupboard beneath you taking the blow and holding his knee steady, leaving you no choice but to remain perched, precarious and trembling, to avoid putting your weight on him.

“this ‘as been my problem with you since day one. you’re a dishonest and jealous woman. can’t be ‘appy for johnny. can’t be polite to me–”

you hiss and spit at that, outrage starting and stalling. he’s done nothing—as if he’s—unbelievable—but you’re wasting your breath, not merely because his stupid, meaty paw’s lodged over your mouth, but because it’s simon. two years in, and you know better. arguing with him is like shouting into the void. useless, exhausting. your calves burn from holding yourself up, thighs trembling under the strain, but he doesn’t let up, doesn’t ease an inch.

“always whining, always makin’ our boy feel like shit with your desperate, depressing texts–” his knee slides and nudges between your legs, finding the seam of your jeans. “–always runnin’ away from us, not letting it happen, be easy...”

your face finally turns, but he only leans in further, his forehead skimming yours, settling heavily against your temple. chapped lips graze your cheek, words spilling straight into your skin, warm air puffing through his nostrils like a beast. “trying to sneak out, makin’ me keep an eye on you all night…” you squeeze your eyes shut, heat crawling up your neck and over your scalp. this is bad. very bad. it’s johnny’s birthday, and his boyfriend has you cornered in the bathroom. your thoughts snarl in panic and guilt. you hardly register simon’s voice anymore, his lecture breaking into shards your brain can’t piece together.

until he says something that pierces the fog. growls it into your ear, close enough his tongue needlessly flicks the shell.

“i’m not ‘aving it anymore. you understand? you ain’t leavin’ tonight.”

simon unhurriedly tilts your head back, then presses you down onto his knee. you swallow hard, a noise catching somewhere deep and undignified. if he notices, he doesn’t let on.

“i’m gonna let go, and you’re gonna keep quiet. you’re gonna be a good girl, come back downstairs, and not go makin’ a scene. or do i need to spell out what ‘appens if ya don’t, or are ya as sharp as ‘e’s always makin’ out?”

you don’t need him to say it. the threat is there, in between your legs, and if you looked down, you’d see it between his, too. it doesn’t matter what you want.

it doesn’t matter what simon wants, either, you think. if it did, you’d probably still be in the bathroom with him.

he’s been abundantly clear. the only thing that matters is what johnny wants.

from where he sat you on the end of the bed, hands fidgeting in your lap, you glimpse movement through the cracked door. grunting. he told you to spit in his palm before he sent you out, and now you know why. his hand sounds slick and furious over his length. your stomach clenches, eyes watering from staring unblinkingly at the rug beneath your feet. you wonder if it’s not punishment but a prelude. or worse, his idea of a favor. a demonstration. as long as you’re good and quiet. as long as you stay.

when he comes, he’s nearly silent. a word or two gnashed between teeth in a whisper. a couple more pumps. then, the flush of the toilet and his zipper.

he doesn’t wash his hands. the animal.

simon lifts an eyebrow, and you scurry toward the door, though the snap of his tongue slows you. he stays a breath behind you as the warmth and noise of the party swallow you both whole, no one any wiser. instinctively, you angle left, toward the door, but his finger hooks through the back loop of your jeans, steering you elsewhere.

johnny’s in a merry state, glassy-eyed and slack-jawed, caught somewhere between shock and delight at seeing both of you settle beside him. you’re wedged in the middle on the couch, their solid thighs pressing yours. across the coffee table, the men you met earlier nod in your direction, and you return a stiff smile, pretending nothing’s amiss. johnny’s hand lands on your knee with a familiar squeeze, his grin boyish and lopsided. behind you, a heavier arm stretches across the back of the couch, simon’s fingers brushing your shoulder lightly. the scent of the cologne mingles with simon’s musk, wrinkling your nose.

johnny leans in, his voice an exaggerated whisper slurred at the edges. his eyes, wide and glassy, flit between the two of you with an almost childlike excitement.

“nice to see ye gettin’ along. just for me?”

simon chuckles. “told ya i’d be good, didn’t i?” his fingers curl beneath your collar, resting there. an ultimatum. “it’s a joint gift. ain’t that right?”

your eyebrows lift in a wider, strained smile.

“yep. happy birthday, johnny.”

#ghoap x reader #ghostsoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #ghoap x f!reader #ghostsoap x f!reader #ghost x soap x f!reader #i *think* i tagged everything. as usual. please lmk.

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hyuckmov · 2 days ago

Text

haechan — settle down (rockstar hyuck) | part 3 of 3

wc: 11k (lol) genre: angst, smut (18+ minors dni), fluff warnings: unprotected sex, making out, creampies, fingering, oral (f recieving), lowkey don't have that dog in me anymore so this is kind of vanilla, dirty talk, aftercare...? needs to be read after part 1 and 2 a/n: fucking finally. so so so sorry for the wait and also this is lowkey probably so BAD because its been a hot minute since i've written for tumblr. because this could be written/ended in so many ways, AN EPILOGUE IS COMING with a 'happy' ending, just not putting it here in this part because i think i should post this out first on it's own. i love you guys so much, thank you to every single person who's read, commented, let me know how much you liked it, and waited so patiently. i cannot express how much it means to me.

—

"whose party is this again?"

"jaemin's friend chenle," mark says, placing his drink down on one of the tables. "think they should be around here somewhere."

through the smoke, he can see your eyes shine. you've come even closer now, and it's as if every movement of yours is liquified, rendered in slow-motion – you flick a strand of hair out of your face and it's like he can feel the damp air on your cheeks, a slow smile spreading across your face like sunrise spilling over the horizon, that lovely curl of your lip that he's memorized. he feels his chest cave in when he hears you laugh, feel you take another step closer to him even though your eyes never meet his, even though you never look his way – every memory he has of you threatening to burst through his seams.

your skin glows under the dizzying lights, and all he can think about is the fact that you’re so close, he could reach out his hand and touch you. but he can’t. you weren't his – and he was the one who had thrown you away.

jisung comes up to you, and haechan can see his friend's shy smile met with your beaming grin as you turn to face him. jisung is saying something to you – a hand gently placed on your shoulder as he speaks into your ear, the other gesturing vaguely towards the upstairs rooms. and then you're nodding, and haechan watches wide-eyed as he takes your hand in his and begins guiding you up the stairs.

he can't help it – he only waits a beat, enough for you to disappear up the stairs, before he's rushing through the crowd, climbing the stairs two at a time. he rounds the corner just as he sees the flick of your skirt as you disappear into the nearest room, the door clicking shut softly. taking a moment to calm himself down – chest heaving, wringing his hands – he pads softly towards the room, placing both hands on the door, straining to hear anything that might be going on.

low voices. the rustling of fabric. haechan's imagination spun out of control – jisung's large hands on your skin, his plush lips exploring your neck, your soft sounds, the way you might look under him. he heard a light laugh, and he pressed even closer to try to catch what was being said – what if he had you on his lap? what if you laughed because he'd kissed you behind the ear like haechan did once? it had caught you by surprise, and you'd giggled – burying your face in the crook of his neck. you were sorry. you were just sensitive. haechan had wanted to pull you into his chest and never let you go.

he knew he was breaking his own heart – over-analyzing each muffled sound that came through, all his thoughts drifting back to memories of you. but he couldn't seem to peel himself away as the party raged on and on downstairs, didn't want to be anywhere else but near you even if you didn't know he was there. he had never felt this way with anyone else before – never needed anyone else like this, never afraid like this – and the realisation roared loud in his ears along with the feverish ghost of your fingerprints all over his skin.

–

jisung knows haechan's going to talk to him.

can see it in the way he hangs back after practice, fiddling with his guitar and placing it back on its stand, before picking it back up again for no real reason. there was something off, slightly, about haechan these days. not enough for jeno or mark to comment about it, to hold an intervention, but things had definitely changed – haechan never brought around girls, or showed any interest when jeno and mark would discuss them. he was quiet, and subdued during practice, absorbed in his own guitar, or else discussing new songs with mark in low voices. and strangest of all – jisung mused, slinging his own bass over his shoulder as he ambled to the door – haechan started to seem afraid of jisung.

jisung – who had for the longest time been the most timid and shy of the group, the least experienced by far. he remembered how haechan would tease him if a girl paid him any slightest bit of attention: half-joking, but half trying to build up his friend's confidence. he remembered how he used to be wary of haechan's attention at after-show parties, because haechan would watch him like a hawk and push him into any girls he showed the vaguest interest in. he remembered his shock at haechan, who had never been mean or vindictive – a pain sometimes yes, but never truly cruel to him –, standing there obstinately in his place on stage, staring down at you in the crowd.

to the version of haechan now, who could barely look him in the eye.

"jisung?"

haechan clears his throat. jisung stops in his tracks, turning back to look at haechan.

"yeah?"

haechan's gaze is directed at his shoes. swallowing, he takes a moment before he asks. "uh…how was…um…how've you been?"

jisung has to stop himself from laughing out loud. "i've been good," he says, amiably. he's not going to let haechan have it easy.

"nice…nice," haechan mumbles. "uh…seeing anybody?"

"haechan," he keeps his tone light. "come on." he moves towards where haechan is standing awkwardly, taking a seat down on one of the stools. after a beat, haechan sits down too.

"how did it go with y/n?" haechan sounds almost timid – like a child asking a question, but scared of knowing the answer.

"can't you ask her yourself?" he knows he's making things difficult, but he needs haechan to work for it. needs haechan to articulate, because he knows that's the least you deserve.

"i…i could," haechan says. "but i…i don't want to seem possessive. i already fucked up by wishing her luck on the date and i just…" he buries his face in his hands. jisung doesn't say a thing, waiting for him to finish his sentence. "i don't want to hurt her anymore…but i need to know. i need to know what to expect.…" haechan's voice is so small, like he's disappearing into himself.

"haechan…" he starts, slowly, but haechan cuts in, hurriedly.

"if you really love her, jisung, if you're happy together, i'll back off. i won't see her again. it'll be…it'll be too hard to see her with you but that's for me to figure out. you…you should both be happy. she deserves you, ji. you'll be good for each other."

"what are you even saying…" jisung lets out a nervous laugh. he knows haechan tends to get dramatic – loves blowing moments out of proportion, lingering on stories that were fun to tell and relive. loves to exaggerate – always taking the smallest details too seriously and making light of things that had real consequences. but as he watches haechan – curled in on himself, he sees that this is something else entirely. this haechan was anxious and overthinking, unsure of himself, fractured into a thousand different wants and needs.

"i'm serious, jisung." haechan, the vocalist he is, keeps his voice as steady as possible. "i'll back off if you tell me to. if i'm making it hard for you in any way…"

"haechan, it's…it's going to be fine. it's not what you think."

"you…you're not together now?" a hint of hopefulness.

jisung chooses to be kind. "we're not," he says, gently. when haechan's lips part, he continues on, interrupting him. "it had nothing to do with you. we're just…not."

"i'm sorry," haechan murmurs, finally lifting his head. "i know you wanted it to work out." he truly means it.

"i'm happy with the way things are now," jisung says it, and he means it too. "but…but you know she's going to start seeing other people, right?"

a beat. "yeah…yeah of course."

"you can't go after all of them and ask them if it's working out or not, you know?" jisung says, wryly. "at some point…you need to just talk to her."

"i…" haechan break off, a pained expression flitting over his face. "i don't have anything to say. but i really want her to be happy. i just want her to be happy. but it sounds…" he catches the look on jisung's face. "i know it sounds like a guilt-trip. i know what it sounds like."

"give her space," jisung suggests, quietly. "figure out what you're willing to give. who you can be for her."

"hyuck or haechan." he says it almost spitefully. he had never hated the difference more.

you were in the crowd today.

it had been a little over a month – 6 days more, to be exact, – since haechan had last seen you in the crowd, each time spotting your face easily, everyone else fading to nothing. each time noting every which way your eyes shimmered under the lights, the ways your pretty lips curved into a smile or a shout, or even each time you looked away, distracted.

he'd practically rushed into the dressing room after the show ended, anxious hands tugging at his clothes, trying to fix himself up just in case you decided to come find him. questions had spun around in his mind so much during the show, he was afraid he would start singing them in place of mark's carefully written lyrics. he's thought of a thousand ways to bring it up, but he wishes he could just ask — how've you been? have you forgotten me?

he's still lost in thought when the dressing room door opens softly, the lock turning gently in the door barely louder than a whisper.

"haechan?"

he turns, and you're there. you're wearing a new dress, probably the shortest one he's ever seen on you, black glittery fabric barely brushing the tops of your thighs. but he doesn't linger on your body, his eyes seeking out your own, the flush of anticipation and adrenaline in your cheeks, the way your hair falls slightly loose, framing your face. the question is on the tip of his tongue, his lips are parting, his breath catches in his throat –

" – don't worry," you say, breathlessly, as you catch the look on his face. "no one saw me."

oh.

walking towards him, you pull him into a hug, arms wrapping around his neck, so you can brush your lips against his cheek. pulling away, you peer at him, wondering why he's looking at you so lost. like he was wondering something since he laid eyes on you tonight.

you frown. "were you going to ask me something else?"

his lips part, soundlessly. you've never seen him so speechless. his arms tentatively circle around your waist, fingers brushing the fabric of your dress, and understanding dawns on you.

"yes, it's a new dress," you smile.

he swallows, the cloudy look clearing from his eyes as he finally runs his heavy touch down your back, a feeling you've grown used to.

his tone is slightly darker when he plays along, masking the traces of disappointment. "for me?"

you nod, letting his hands wander to the zipper, eyes traveling to the mirror to catch the way he fiddles with it, slowly starting to drag it down your spine.

what you don't catch, is the way he's looking at you – lip caught between his teeth, eyes focused on the side of your face, regret and sadness and a desire he still couldn't shake coursing through his body. you had come back – and maybe that was all that he should care about.

"come home with me," he blurts out, suddenly. "i have to show you something."

confused, you look back at him, frowning. "now?"

he swallows. "yes. we'll still…it's just…" he stammers, confidence draining as he watches you zip your dress back up. "i mean…i just…thought you'd like my bedroom more than this dressing room. you said- you said it was uncomfortable, that last time…" he trails off. his head droops, fingers picking at his nails.

you place your hands on his chest. his head lifts just slightly, glancing at you through his lashes. "haechan," the ache in your chest making your voice soft – barely above a whisper. "why are you so nervous today?"

"i'm sorry," he starts, but you shake your head. "it's been awhile."

"that's fine, i'll go home with you," you say, smiling, hoping to reassure him. the words instantly relax him, and he lets out a breath. you can feel his chest move under your palms.

"i'm sorry," he repeats, softly, but you don't know what he's saying it for.

–

you don't know how you ended up here.

one moment, haechan was unlocking his door, one hand fumbling with the keys as he held yours tightly in his other palm. the next, you were pushing him against the door – his plush lips, soft and tasting slightly like honeyed lip balm, finally kissing you deeply in a way you'd craved. and then he was sweeping you up into his arms, your legs locked in around his waist, his bag slumping to the floor as he focused all his attention on you. placing you on the countertop, he takes his time with your lips – his hand first cupping your face, then working its way down your neck, as if he was making sure you were wholly real through touch since his eyes were closed for the kiss.

"hyuck?" you murmur.

guilt pricks at your conscience when you feel him falter. you would never admit that you realized the name did something to him – made him more desperate and more tender all at once. you used it sparingly, only in certain moments, and tonight seemed just right for it, what with the way his touch was already so infused with longing.

he hums in acknowledgement, pausing. a gentle palm tilts your face towards his, and his eyes are wide and patient.

"what's wrong?" he asks.

"i want to suck you off," you mumble, your words coming out rushed and careless. you almost think he might not catch it, but haechan goes still. his hands, caressing your face, stop moving.

"what?"

your mind explodes with a million thoughts. did he not want you to? how many girls had sucked him off before you – did he think you wouldn't be good enough? was he not attracted to you enough?

he was still just looking at you – something unreadable in his eyes.

"do you not want me to?" you ask, doubt making your tone come off a little more insecure than you'd have liked. "is it…is it because i've never done it before?"

he blinks. "what?" he repeats, again.

you shift, uneasy. "you can teach me," you insist, holding onto his arms, wanting to be closer to him. "i'll practice…"

"oh god," he whispers. "oh… oh y/n…" his hands barely skim your skin, nervously tucking your hair behind your ear. "don't," he says, quietly.

"why?"

i don't want to hurt you," he says, voice so tender it wavers under the weight of his feelings for you. "being able to touch you is already everything to me-" he trails off, biting his lip, and then he's weak in the knees, and you melt into his embrace as he holds your body against his. "i don't want you to do anything you're uncomfortable with."

"i want to please you like the girls before," you protest, weakly. "i want to…i want you to tell me your fantasies."

"all that matters to me," he says, slowly, eyes suddenly grave and solemn. "is that i'm here with you. just you." he holds your hands up to his lips and kisses the tips of your fingers.

you don't know what to say. the charged atmosphere from before has dissolved into the night, leaving a balmy and sweet taste on your tongue. the only thing that feels right is to hold him in your arms and hold him as close as you can.

he's looking at you, before suddenly pulling you into him as if he could read your mind – arms wrapped protectively around your back, one hand coming up to stroke your hair as you lean into his chest.

the memory of that first night comes back to you – the first time he rejected you. he hadn't wanted to hurt you then, either. and then he proceeded to in all ways possible – playing with your heart in a terrible back and forth. and then he disappeared from your life, and then he came back and something was different – in the way he touched you, looked for you, looked at you, was careful with you.

but you moved on – told jaemin, told yourself you weren't waiting. you'd gone on a date with jisung, and then to some more with a few other guys on campus. you didn't hang around the band all the time now – didn't show up for every concert. and even when you did, you rarely stopped by to see haechan – spending more and more time with jisung, who was steadily becoming one of your closest friends.

you tried to keep things light when you did visit haechan. always easy, relishing in how well he knew how to please you, how he always knew what to say. and for the most part, he was able to play along – a smile always tugging at the corner of his lips, or his tongue poking into his cheek as his eyes turned dark.

but it was on nights like these – when the moon was a bit too bright and the air between your lips and his dense like honey, your skin heated and his face flushed – when you used the wrong name, or he said things too vulnerable and too intimate. it was on nights like these when you are faced with the reality that he made you feel the way no one else could – even as he was ever-changing, ever showing you a different side of himself. on these nights you plunge your hands deep into the kaleidoscope of him, and its like diving into shattered glass.

–

"i wanted to show you this," he murmurs, shyly.

he places a pair of headphones clumsily on your head, his long fingers scrambling to adjust it on your head, trying not to pull at your hair. your hands come up to help, and you shoot him a reassuring smile.

it was even later in the night. you were both showered and dressed for bed – you in a long-sleeved shirt of his that you liked. when you came into the bedroom, he was fiddling with his laptop – and you could hear snippets of his honey-sweet voice starting and stopping as he tapped at his keyboard. it was natural, to head over to the bed and lean your head on his shoulder, as he started to explain to you what he was doing, eventually grabbing his headphones from the bedside table. his skin smells faintly of baby powder, and his bare face under the dim light is so soft – mellowed curves, the constellation of moles on his cheek ever visible, eyes tired but warm.

he clicks play, and his voice fills your ears – clean, without any backing vocals or instruments. you try to catch the lyrics, but he mumbles through his words, voice meandering effortlessly around the melodies, drawing beautiful loops. his voice is delicate and gentle, flowing water with a current of electricity running through it, humming and buzzing with dangerous life.

it ends all too quickly, and haechan – who was watching your face carefully the entire time, clicks on a few more tracks. you can hear his voice, muffled from under the headphones, start to explain.

"that's…that's my draft for the melody. i made it for this, uh, it's one of mark's demos–"

a sultry, low beat now plays, low strings filling in the gaps. when his voice leaks in, you feel your cheeks start to heat up. the same melody from before – so innocuous and sweet, maybe something even vulnerable – sounds sinful all of a sudden. you can practically hear the scream of the crowd punctuating each line, and now even the way he mumbles is hazed with a sort of suggestive glow.

you look at him, wide-eyed. he's still watching your face, this time his lip caught between his teeth, looking up at you through his lashes. when the song ends, you tug the headphones down from your ears, and he takes them from you absentmindedly.

"mark told me to try writing for that. he said it suited my voice —"

"it does," you respond. your hands reach out to play with his, tracing the way his fingers curved, running your touch along his calloused finger-tips.

"but i…i don't know. i want to write something…something that feels…" he stumbles over his words, eyes lingering on the way your hands play with his, the gentleness of your touch. "that feels like this," he finishes, softly.

"like what?" you hum, tracing loops on the back of his hand.

but he doesn't respond.

"do you like it?" he asks, quietly.

you give his hand a squeeze. "sing it for me?"

his hand trails off to the keyboard again, but you hold it steady in your palm. "no, sing it for me now. here."

he's still. you almost think he won't do it, but then he's pushing the screen of his laptop shut, and he turns to face you.

this time, when he sings, he gets all the words out.

in person, his voice is hushed and soft, like every word is a secret. his eyes flutter shut, and he ducks his head shyly as he continues. when he ends, his voice trails off, and he doesn't turn to look at you, staring at his hands. you stay silent, until it's like he can't bear it, and his head turns to face you, eyes seeking reassurance.

"i like it just like this," you tell him, softly.

his smile blooms.

—

"keep haechan on his toes," jaemin says, leaning back in his chair. the steam from the coffee he made – a 2am jaemin specialty — curled gently in the air, your hands nursing the mug in front of you, sipping just to have something to do. "don't see him for awhile. keep him guessing."

"that's cruel," you mumble.

"he's done crueler," he points out. "you know you don't owe him anything, right?"

"i know i don't," you say, slowly. "i just think that it would kill me not to know how he's doing. if he was going on dates with other people…"

"and would he tell you?"

no, is your automatic answer, one you can't run from in your head, but jisung cuts in.

"he wouldn't go on a date with someone else," he shakes his head, leaning back in his chair so he could stretch out his long limbs. blinking sleep from his eyes, he shook his head again to clear his bangs away from his eyes. it had been late already when he showed up, after a show, bringing food, a tired but giddy smile on his face. "you really fucked him up, that's all i'm going to say."

"he may not go on a date, but he'd fuck someone else, probably." jaemin rolls his eyes.

"we actually haven't fucked in awhile." the realization feels like butterflies in your chest – an uneasy, fluttery feeling.

"what?" jisung looks at you in disbelief. "sorry," he adds, suddenly sheepish when both you and jaemin stare at him. "i just thought that was the big part of your relationship."

"it was…" you say, slowly. ignoring how jisung said 'relationship' when it was really never that. "but…but i don't know. recently we always get distracted…or… or he's… i don't know."

you think of his unmade bed. the careful, tender loop of his arm around your waist. you think of the way his lashes flutter when you lean in to kiss him –

and yet, there was something bigger bothering you about this, something that tugged at your gut, the words forcing themselves out of you.

"i hate that it feels like there's nothing more to me than this."

"y/n, what are you talking about?" jaemin asks, his voice quiet. when you pause, he presses on, urgency in every word. "what did he say to you?"

"nothing," you shake your head. "he didn't say that to me, it's something i feel. no matter who i'm with…even when i'm alone….i can't run from it." you take a breath. you hated admitting this, but jaemin's eyes were kind as they looked into yours. "even when we weren't talking, i was thinking about him…and tonight…jaemin i don't think anyone should be able to make me feel like this."

“there's nothing wrong with being in love," he says, carefully. when you don't say a word, he continues on, as gentle as possible. "you know that no amount of attention he gives you will change the way you feel, right?"

he was right. if you really dared to dream – to use up every last shooting star, count on all of the angel numbers — and haechan, donghyuck, gave himself to you fully like you wanted, you would still be afraid of losing him. a sick flutter beats in your chest at the passing thought of him slipping away again – that all this fight would have been for nothing.

it was as if jaemin could read your mind. "there was a life before him," he reassures you. "there is so much more without him. you just need to start living like it, to really see it."

you had nodded, but you couldn't shake the feeling that no matter how many shows you skipped, no matter how many times you drove by his apartment or ignored his messages, it wouldn't change a thing: that even though there was a life before him, maybe it wasn't one that you wanted anymore.

—

you're cutting through the park on your way home from class, when you hear a shout of your name. you barely have time to turn before a small girl is launching herself at your legs, standing high on her tip-toes to throw her arms around your waist.

"slow down!"

you'd know that voice anywhere.

haechan looks different. he's dressed in a striped sweater, glasses askew on his small nose. your heart skips a beat – he looks warm, and cozy, and comfortable. behind the frames, his eyes glow when he looks at you, an involuntary smile tugging at his lips.

the two of you just stand there, looking into each other's eyes. every sense of yours is heightened – the autumn air cold on your skin. the light catching everything around you. and your heart beating in your chest, speeding up with every moment you continue looking at him. you can't help it: even now you smile looking at his face.

he raises his eyebrows.

"what?" you blurt out, caught off-guard.

he laughs lightly. "what are you doing here?" he asks, like he's explaining a question.

"just…passing through," you say, slowly. "you?"

"the…uh…kindergarten's right near here." haechan point vaguely at a point in the distance, you only look at it for a second before you focus back on him. you can't help it. he smiles again. "you're just passing through? can't you stay for awhile? we were going to get ice cream."

his sister tugs at your sweater, excited at the sound of ice cream. you look down at her face – she has the same nose as her brother, the same bright smile.

"just for a bit," you concede. haechan pumps his fist, playing up his excitement to make his sister laugh. it makes your heart go still and race all at the same time.

—

"we need to talk."

there was something wrong with haechan.

the smell of rain and cigarettes hung in the alley behind the dingy venue. haechan sits on the steps with his head in his hands, jeno leaning on the wall opposite, jisung against the doorway behind. it's mark who stands directly in front of him, as he rubs his face with his hands, trying to calm down. mark who crouches down, mark's prying hands which make haechan lift his head to look at them.

"what happened?" he asks, his eyes blazing.

haechan swallows. "it's been a bad day," he tries, weakly.

"it's been a bad month," jeno corrects. at haechan's glare, he raises his eyebrows in a silent challenge, and it's jisung who pipes up.

"i think people are starting to notice something's off," he says, softly. "that you play differently, sometimes."

"you mean that he messes up when she's not in the crowd," jeno says, bitterly.

"i only messed up today," haechan mumbles. "it won't happen again."

"what about yesterday? it's like you weren't onstage at all." jeno protests.

haechan opens his mouth, but closes it. he knew this conversation had to happen, that things would lead to this – his fingers faltering, his mind going blank as his solo began. jeno's drums continuing relentlessly, mark's eyes on him, as he shook his head fiercely, trying to clear his mind and focus all at once. unsure of what to keep — the image of you, or the chords he'd worked so hard to get right.

"hyuck, do you need a break?" mark asked, his words slow and gentle. "we can stop performing for awhile, cancel some of our gigs…"

"no," he breathes. "don't." he doesn't want to lose all of it – and because he knew that if he stopped performing, he didn't know if he would ever see you again.

and it's like jeno reads his mind. "she's not going to like you like this," jeno says, his voice impersonal. "she likes the version of you onstage, remember? it's how she first met you, it's what kept her coming back for more."

"jeno." mark's voice is stern, but haechan looks up right past him, hurt pooling in his eyes.

"i know," he breathes. "i know that. but i don't know if i can be that around her anymore."

"not just around her," jisung notes. "you're not haechan anymore. it doesn't make you happy."

"i know," he repeats, quieter this time.

"hyuck, listen," mark sighs. "you're not doing yourself any good going onstage like this. i'm canceling the next few shows –" as haechan protests, he cuts him off with a hand on his shoulder. "no. we could all use a break."

"mark," haechan croaks. "i can't."

"we'll still have practice," mark says, firmly. "you still have to show up for all of it. and those songs i told you to work on —"

"you should go home," jisung adds. "take care of your sister."

there's a pause, as they wait for jeno to chime in.

"none of it matters if you don't figure it out with her," he says, a tone of finality ringing in his words. he straightens, broad shoulders squared, suddenly much bigger under the lights. "if you need to get over it, you have to. staying like this is hurting everyone."

haechan's lips part, soundlessly. there's a sharp creak, as jeno stalks back into the venue, followed by mark – who pats haechan gently on the shoulder. vaguely, haechan waits for the sound of jisung's soft steps to fade, but they only shuffle closer, until the lanky boy drops down next to him. his legs stretch out into the dingy alley, as haechan hugs his knees closer to his chest, for the first time perhaps truly afraid of what he was about to hear from his friend.

"sometimes, we meet the right person at the wrong time-" jisung's voice is quiet, almost a murmur, but the words still scrape against haechan's skin, rough like sand.

"don't say that." he bites his lip harshly, a sudden rush of anger at the pity in jisung's responding sigh. "don't fucking say that."

"haechan, it's okay. she liked you, but then she moved on after you realised you —"

"she didn't –" his fist clenches, restless in his lap. "she didn't move on."

"really? not at all?" jisung's eyes are fixed on haechan's, holding his gaze. "after weeks of telling her you couldn't give her what she wanted…you think she's still waiting for you?"

"ji-"

"why should she wait for you?"

haechan swallows. "she shouldn't," he mumbles. "i…i need to really let her go. jeno's right." he truly means it.

jisung hesitates. he's been spending more time with you, as friends – joining on your movie nights with jaemin, or else baking together, or letting you style him for shows and concerts. and the more time he spends with you, really gets to know you, the more he can see why you and haechan seem to need each other. your patience and gentleness matched the soft way he's seen haechan take care of his sister and at times, mark. he watched the way you sometimes falter – worry overtaking your features for a split second when you stop at a red light, or your teeth tugging at your bottom lip as you stand in front of the stove – and instinctively he can imagine haechan's confidence, his natural propensity to make everything seem easy, fitting in with you and taking care of you.

but he knew that haechan could only give you his attention – not his heart, not until he was brave enough to admit how much you meant to him.

your resolve to stay friends with him was as flimsy as haechan's promise to let you go. jisung almost wanted to laugh at the insistence both of you had, upon lying to yourselves.

"be honest," he says, gently. "what do you want?" when haechan doesn't answer, jisung's low voice continues on, coaxingly. "what's your best-case scenario? what do you want to happen?"

haechan takes a deep breath. "i don't know."

jisung tries to hide his disappointment. "do you not know, or are you not ready to say it?"

"i don't know," haechan mumbles again, burying his face in his hands. i don't know if i deserve it.

the two of them sit there for a long, long, time.

–

there was something wrong with haechan.

something's different. that's what jeno had said earlier, after the show. exhausted from sleepless nights, screaming fans making him feel nauseous, haechan barely paid attention to anything during his performances except for his own guitar. he hardly looked at the crowd, didn't acknowledge their pleas of his name, as if it wasn't one he recognised at all.

he'd started missing parties, and was barely there even if he showed — ignoring the way girls swarmed around him, wondering if he was playing a new game, one where they had to work harder to earn his attention. it was a game they never won, his eyes trained on his cup, or else on the door.

but out of all of haechan's bad habits, this might be the worst of them – sitting in the living room past midnight, sipping down to the last dregs of his alcohol, waiting for the knock on his door.

it was late now — so late that the hours had bled into the next day. he hadn't seen you at the concert, not at the party, and despite telling himself not to dream, not to hope, he still carried enough desperation in him to stay up again.

he's relieved he did.

his hands shake as he opens the door. his hands falling to his sides as he drinks in the sight of you, letting you in.

"hi," you breathe, and you don't ask before you lean into him, soft lips brushing his plush ones.

he's at a loss for words, his tongue numb in his mouth, limbs still heavy from how tired he'd been all day. he lets you guide him to the couch, into the cushions. lets you straddle his hips, holding your body close to his with careful arms, as he meets your kisses gently.

something's different, but haechan's not the only one who's changed. on nights like these, all you do is take and take and take.

"i haven't seen you in a while," he murmurs. quietly, softly, the words almost getting lost between kisses. immediately after he says the words, he slots his lips with yours firmly, as if afraid of what you would say if he let the space between you and him grow.

"i've been busy." at the crestfallen look on his face, a small smile tugs at your lips, and you lean in to brush your lips with his. "why? did you miss me?"

"i did," he says, almost timid. "i missed you."

at this, you raise your eyebrows. "you could have had anyone else."

but he shakes his head. "i missed you," he repeats, hands mapping your skin, as if checking if you were really here, seeking the familiar way you fit into his palms, your slopes and your edges.

"i missed you too," you say, meaningfully, letting him pull you in for another kiss. but when you push against him, body rocking into his and mouth open and wanting, the glow in your eyes tells him you're talking about something else entirely.

his mind races. the feeling of you against him wakes him up like nothing else, the way you touch him, your smell and your taste setting fire to all his senses. there's something sweet about your lips tonight, something he wants to savor on his tongue and drown in all at once.

he doesn't want to waste any of this, because this was the only thing you ever wanted to see him for — and that's what he tells himself as he pulls you into his body, because finally, finally, your attention is all on him, an electric heat simmering over each fibre of his being, the feeling of your body too sweet to be true.

but it's been one too many nights he's waited, a weight on his chest and a drowsiness he can't shake overcoming him like a cloyingly sweet poison.

"i–" he's cut off by a shuddering inhale as your lips travel down to his neck, your hips grinding against him just right. "baby, i'm sorry," he tries again, his hands now gripping onto your waist, trying to steady you, even as he gives up. "i don't think i can take care of you tonight."

you still.

"don't go, please," he begs. "i'm sorry, it's been…it's been a long day and i…" he breaks off. the performance. the fight with the band. the fact that he'd been drinking for hours, the starless sky inky black outside his window, his fingers still stinging from plucking at guitar strings all night. "just give me a second," he stammers, burying his face in his hands, tugging at his features, before looking up at you with tired eyes. "i'll be fine in a minute, then we'll go to the bedroom, i just —"

your hands slide down the slope of his shoulders.

"don't go," he repeats, hands fumbling for yours as he brings them up to his lips, like a prayer. "i can take care of you, i promise. just…"

"donghyuck," you say, softly. again you smile, cupping his face in your palms. his round cheeks, plush lips, the slight flare of his nose. he almost goes cross-eyed staring at you, as you lean in close and kiss him again – this one different from the rest, close-lipped and chaste.

"hyuck, let me take care of you tonight, okay?"

caught in a riptide of his own longing, he lets go.

"you don't have to do anything," he mumbles. his hands tentatively touch your waist, the barest brush of his fingertips, before he's encircling you in his arms, easing you into his chest. slowly, tentatively, he holds you close by the weight of his arms, a large hand reassuringly patting the space right beneath your heart – clumsy, rhythmic thumps that trailed off into a lingering warmth. "i just want to hold you here, like this."

he can feel the tension that spreads down your spine, your breath caught in your throat. your lips are parted, your eyes looking at his in an unreadable expression.

"do you not like it?" he asks, his voice small. his hands fall from your waist, nervously tugging his sleeves down over his palms. "i…i'm just…"

"i do," you say, slowly. and because your faces are so close, the thought is barely crossing your mind before you press your lips against his. it's supposed to be quick, reassuring, but the look on haechan's face when you pull back makes you lean in again right away.

it was a look that was open and hurt, his hands still tangled in his lap. his eyes stayed open as you kissed him, as if he couldn't dare believe it was real — finally blinking shut when you kissed him again, his slight relief melting on your tongue. his teeth sunk into his bottom lip as you clumsily got up off the couch, and as you straightened, he ducked away from your gaze, staring at his hands.

"hyuck," you start, but he shakes his head.

"it's fine." he still wouldn't look at you - fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "you don't have to stay, it's late."

"hyuck, listen to me."

"i know," he says, quickly. the slightest trace of fear in his voice. "you don't….you don't have to remind me, i know. it's too…you said we couldn't…"

" — hyuck, i wasn't going to say that."

his fingers falter, but he stays silent.

"i can't fall asleep properly in your lap," you explain, slowly. "let's go to bed, okay?"

he looks up then. "really?"

"i said i want to take care of you," you repeat, his wide eyes making you feel shy all of a sudden. "i mean it."

he lets you take his hands, body following pliantly as he stands from the couch, as you lead him to his bedroom, his eyes focused on your intertwined hands. it's both a familiar and unfamiliar feeling — crawling into his bed with his clothes on your body, sinking into the soft sheets and letting the senses of him wash over you. the usual buzz of pleasure isn't there, and its a different tiredness that seeps through your veins, one that comes with feeling safe.

since when did you start feeling safe with him?

you feel his weight sink in behind you, the duvet rustling against skin as he turns. an arm curls around your waist. his head lowers into the crook of your neck – you can feel his soft hair, his pouty lips brushing your shoulders in a light kiss.

"the band is taking a break," he mumbles. "because of me."

"hyuck?" you try to turn in his arms, but his grip only tightens on your waist. he shakes his head. "hyuck, what happened? are you okay?"

"m'yeah, i'm okay now." he shifts. "just…i just don't know if i like playing in the band anymore."

there's a pause.

"are you…are you disappointed?" the thumb drawing circles on your hip stills. "say something," he whispers. "please."

"why would i be disappointed?" you ask, quietly. placing your hand on his, you turn, facing him as he encircles you in his arms. his eyes are half-lidded, tousled hair falling over his brows, his cheek squished against the pillow into a half-pout. it's almost instinct – the way your hand goes up to his face to brush his hair out of his face, fingers absentmindedly tracing his moles.

you can feel his lips move against your fingers. "would you still come to see me?" he wonders, softly. "if you didn't have a reason to?"

you bite your lip. "i would want to…" you say, slowly. "but i don't know if i should. haechan, what's going on? does music not make you happy anymore?"

his heart aches. your care for him fills his lungs, making his eyes begin to prickle with tears.

"i don't think the haechan…donghyuck thing is good for me."

"oh." your thumb brushes over the bridge of his nose. "hyuck…" you start. "i don't…i don't want to overstep."

his face falls. "sorry," he says, his voice small. "i won't bother you with it…you don't have to…"

"no, i don't mean…hey, listen to me." you wait until he looks up at you through his lashes, nervously. "i think i've gotten to know haechan and donghyuck, you know? i mean…" your heart skips a beat, suddenly shy at your own honesty. but you've already let your guard down – it's no use. "of course i like haechan. haechan's the one who invited me backstage, haechan's the one who made me go on that rooftop…but…" you take a breath.

the sleep had worn off from haechan's eyes – he was alert as he watched you now, hanging onto your every word.

"i've gotten to know donghyuck too, i think. i hope. donghyuck makes the best sandwiches for his baby sister, donghyuck has a bear tattoo because he looks as cute as one, donghyuck is always gentle with me even when i ask him not to be." your thumb traces the constellation of moles he has again, tracing down to his neck. you draw him closer – the way he's looking at you: like you're his entire world, like your words were the only thing keeping him breathing, filling your chest with a tender kind of ache that didn't go away.

"donghyuck and haechan aren't that different, not really. they're still you. i like them both. i like all of you. if you woke up tomorrow and told me you were someone else, if you were suddenly becoming someone new, i think i'd still want to fall asleep next to you anyway at the end of the day. because i know you –" you breathe in, sharply. "i…i think i do. i…hope i do."

he doesn't say anything. just leans in, and brushes his lips with yours lightly – once, twice, and finally sealing them in a kiss. he kisses you deeply, intensely – it wakes you up, that familiar feeling stirring in your belly as your hips move of their own accord. a liquid euphoria fills your veins as he pulls you into him – him on his back, you laying on his firm chest, the toned muscles on his chest grounding you, a feeling so familiar, one that you craved for a long time. you've never felt safer, in his arms. he kisses you like with every moment apart, he wonders if you're still there, and each time he sighs into your mouth it's with relief that you're still here, with him.

"do you want to…?" he asks softly. he's breathing heavily, but he tries to calm himself down. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and it's that act – so innocent, so nervous even though you've both done it a dozen times with each other, that makes your heart beat harder in your chest.

"it's been awhile," you murmur.

"i know." he nods, swallowing. "it just…it hasn't felt right. don't…don't get me wrong, i want you all the time-" he practically groans with frustration. "it's just recently i just…i've been really confused. it's so stupid, but i didn't know which version of me you wanted –"

"just you," you assure him, softly.

"let me make it up to you then." his tone is just as soft.

you take his hands, and slide them under your shirt. gently, he tugs it off of you, sitting up slightly to take his shirt off as well before focusing back on you. you're giddy with the feeling of his touch again, nostalgia heightening every single sensation. it's not just hyuck tracing his hands over your chest – his lips finding your nipples, tongue darting out to tease them lightly. it's every single time he's touched you before – in the backseat of his car, hands moving urgently. in your bed that first time – so careful because you were extra sensitive. you have to focus to get back to the present moment, where he's watching you carefully again – noticing that you're lost in your thoughts.

"everything okay?" he murmurs.

you nod. "i just missed you so much," you whisper, and you can feel his desperation in the kiss that follows. "i need you now."

"need to prep you, baby." gently, he eases you onto the bed, crawling down your body as you tug off your shorts and panties. your legs spread, needily, as you can feel him inch closer to your core, his hands coming to hold your hips. "stay still for me?" he mumbles, his eyes dazed as he watches you nod, his own head bobbing along absentmindedly, guiding you through it as he encourages you to bend your knees, baring yourself to him.

the first flick of his tongue on your clit makes you mewl, hands coming down to grip onto his hair.

"i know, baby," he comforts you, drawing small circles on your thigh as he leans into suckle your clit, making your hips buck up. he holds you still, patiently continuing to circle your entrance and lap at your clit. "fuck…you're getting so wet, angel." he slides in a finger, and the intrusion makes you clench around him in sensitivity, especially as he kitten-licks your clit shyly while easing in another finger.

"need you now," you whine, voice reaching that pitch only he seems to bring out in you. his fingers pump more urgently, now curling towards the front of your walls, as he applies more force to your clit with his tongue, massaging the sensitive bud.

"need you-" you choke out. "need you inside."

"just give me one right now," he says, a slight plea to his voice. "please, angel. cum for me please, –"

"wanna cum with you inside," you sniffle. that gets his attention. he crawls right up your body until you're face to face, kissing you deeply, palms coming up to hold your face, careful to keep his fingers away. it's heated – your hips rolling into his as he finally loses control, hips bucking into yours until he's practically humping you as he kisses down your neck. your hands go to his waist, and he whimpers into your skin, finally tugging down his sweatpants, and you feel a familiar weight against your core.

"condom-" he gasps, breaking away. the muscles on his body flex as he reaches for his bedside table, you can feel them move against your hands.

"have you been fucking anyone else?"

he blinks. "no, not since…" he breaks off. "no. and i'm clean. mark made me check." the sound of your giggle makes him smile momentarily – a goofy, lopsided grin that makes your heart squeeze painfully in your chest.

"i want to feel you-" you say, slowly. "please."

he sucks in a breath. "this…this isn't one of those things you're trying to do to please me, right?" he looks at you, skeptically. "it doesn't make a difference to me, you know that right? i just want you to feel comfortable. and safe…"

"i am comfortable," you assure him. "i'm on the pill. i really just want to do this with you."

"because-" he suddenly sits back, running a nervous hand through his hair. "i'm fine with using protection, you know that. i…i love how you feel either way. i never want you to do anything you don't feel absolutely right about…"

"is this about the blowjob?" you raise your eyebrows at him, smiling when you see his eyes widen. "because i'm going to do that too, with you. i want to make you feel good."

now it's his turn to laugh, tilting his head back. his adam's apple bobs in his throat. "you have no idea-" he murmurs, voice suddenly low and serious. "you have no idea how good you make me feel just by the way you look at me. by the way you say my name."

"hyuck," you say, patiently. "i need you. don't make me beg."

"i should be the one begging," he murmurs, and this time when you reach your arms out, he lowers himself right into your arms, letting you wrap your arms around him. he strokes himself a few times, eyelashes fluttering, before slowly easing into you – a soft sound escaping his lips as his eyes went unfocused. it really had been awhile – his length filling you up, stretching you out in a way that was almost painful, but that pain was quickly dulled by pleasure as his body pressed against yours.

"fuck-" he curses, eyes screwed shut in concentration. "can i…can i please…"

you rock your hips against him, letting him in even deeper as he bottoms out. "move-" you whimper, "please-" you barely finish your words before he's already drawing back, barely pulling out before fucking himself back in, short intense thursts feeling dizzying. his slender fingers find your clit again, applying a light pressure as the blunt tip of cock perfectly hits the spongy part of your walls, the sound obscene in the quiet room. you were so aroused, you felt that you were making a mess of his thighs – wetness making the scene seem ever more lewd, creaming around his length as he increased his speed, groaning lowly to himself.

"cum for me, princess," he pleads, lips dipping down to mark the sensitive part of your neck. you were already close from all the teasing – and once again the familiarity of every touch and movement sends your senses into overdrive. your entire body tenses as you climax, and you can hear him hiss out another string of curses, mixed with your name and every term of endearment under the sun.

"where do you want it?" he all but whimpers, hips still fucking into you like a reflex.

"inside-" you mumble, ankles loosely hooking behind his back, trying to stop him from moving away. "hyuck, please come inside, fill me up please-" with a soft cry, he pushes in deep – and you can feel him cum inside you, making a mess between your thighs, the feeling so arousing that it awakens something inside you, and your hips begin to move – begging for more.

"wait-" he pants. "give me a minute, angel-" his eyes are closed again, head lowered, as he pushes through the overstimulation, feeling his soft cock slowly begin to harden again. the sounds falling from his throat now are scratchy, hoarse whines – a sound so dirty it makes your heart beat even faster, a sense of defiled innocence you've only ever heard in his music. the angle in which he's rutting into you stimulating your clit, pushing you closer to your edge as you fuck up onto him.

"hyuck?" you push his bangs out of his eyes, tracing your hands over his shoulders, his chest. your fingers brush past his nipples and his mouth falls open with need, an achy sound releasing from the back of his throat, his puffy lips parted obscenely. you pinch his nipples again, gently, experimentative, and you feel his body shudder as he cums again, this time going still. it's so fucking arousing, an different side to him that you've never seen, that you feel yourself climax as well, the stimulation overwhelming.

the both of you lay there for awhile, before he seems to come to his senses — a shaky hand moving the hair out of your face.

he looks at you, and you look at him.

and as if he can't help himself, he kisses you again – this time so soft and gentle, almost as if it were the first time all over again.

"you alright?" he mumbles.

you nod.

"let's clean up in a second," he breathes. "just…let's stay like this for awhile."

you nod again. you don't trust your own voice. something is happening – something tastes different in the air, something in the way you're looking at each other, something in the way he's touching you now – as if you might break or bruise if he even let his fingerprints get onto your skin. in the way he's looking at you now – something urgent in his gaze.

"are you…are you free tomorrow night?"

"i am." you sound stronger than you feel.

"can i take you somewhere?"

pause. "yeah." you give him a small smile. "i'd like that."

the smile that breaks out across his face is one that you know like the back of your hand.

–

sitting across from you now, with your plates already cleared away and all that's left is your last few sips of wine, it hits you how that this is the most normal setting you've been in with him, possibly ever. his long legs stretched out under the table over by your chair, gently placing down his wine glass as he looks at you, his expression soft. his face is lit up by candlelight, hair falling over his brows in a hopelessly endearing way.

"you good?" he murmurs.

you nod. things feel cozy, and comfortable – it's a feeling so foreign but at the same time so familiar, you have to keep reminding yourself that this is real.

he bites his lip. "pretend i'm jisung," he says, impulsively. "and…and you're describing how this went to him. how…how did you find it?"

you give him a look, but he looks so shy, so nervous to be asking you this question, that you decide to play along.

"well, jisung-" you take a deep breath, smiling when you see him smile too. "haechan picked me up today, that was really nice-"

"-sounds like the bare minimum," he mumbles back, head bent.

"well, yeah it kind of is. but he doesn't have the best track record." you see him wince, so you let that comment linger for awhile before continuing on. "he's been a gentleman today. he…he took me to a restaurant that he found out i've been meaning to go to for awhile now, because he asked jaemin beforehand."

"and that's…creepy? doing too much?"

"it was thoughtful," you mused. "even though he made the reservation for the wrong date…"

"fucker," he shakes his head.

"...it was nice because we got to go to walk around, and there was this moment, um…" his head darts up. now you can see him break character – something piercingly vulnerable in the way his bambi-brown eyes shine.

you swallow. "we were crossing the street…and he put his hand on my lower back, just to guide me forward, and when we got to the other side he took my hand in his and just…held it-"

he's looking at you, slightly confused and a little nervous.

"yeah?"

"he…he usually only acts like that when we're alone…when there's no one around." he still looks lost, so you reach forward across the table, taking his hand in yours. as if on instinct, his hand squeezes yours. "it's sweet," you reassure him. "it was really sweet."

he bites his lip, but nods to show that he understands.

there's silence, for a bit. you think of breaking the silence, of saying anything, when suddenly he clears his throat slightly, sitting up a little straighter.

"hey, mark-" now he's doing the same bit, and it catches you by surprise a little - making you smile. "yeah, i'm still with y/n. i...uh...i fucked up the reservation, you were right, i should've checked again..."

"i really like spending time with her," he says, slowly. "i...i can't stop staring at her - she looks so beautiful tonight. and...and i can't believe she's finally here with me, that i somehow didn't fuck this up. and um...we were in this record store just now...and i was listening to her talk about an album she liked -" a smile plays on his lips as he recalls the memory. you suddenly become aware that your heart is beating hard again, pounding in your ribs. "and she was so excited, and she kept laughing as she talked, and...and i just realised i would do anything to make her that happy, all the time. and that i want it to be me, i want to be the reason she smiles like that."

you swallow.

"haechan..."

"you don't have to say anything-" he rushes to say. "i just...i just wanted you - i mean, uh, mark - to know."

"okay." you take a deep breath. "and um, i want jisung to know that-"

"yeah?"

"i like spending time with him too," you say, faintly.

he nods, but he doesn't smile.

as the car pulls up to your driveway, the quiet hum of the engine is silenced – headlights turned off, only the soft glow of streetlights casting their pools of gold over haechan's face. it's so quiet, you hear the shaky breath he takes as he steadies himself.

"i have something for you," he murmurs. you can feel the warmth radiating off his body as he leans to pick something up from the backseat, the comforting smell of his perfume making your heart warm. but then you hear the crinkle of paper, his hair falling over his face as he sits back into the driver's seat, and your heart falls in a completely different way – your insides rushing with inertia, dizzy and heady – because he's holding a bouquet of dark red roses. they're wrapped sweetly, tied off with a piece of red ribbon to match the blooms, and your eyes linger on the way his fingers tremble as he holds them out to you with both hands.

his starts to speak, but whatever he falters as he watches you stare at the soft petals, stems completely stripped of their thorns – and he bites his lower lip, breath caught in his throat.

"too much?" he asks, softly. "i just thought…i just…mark and jisung said it would be a good idea," he stammers, lowering the bouquet as one of his hands falls to his thighs, nervously clenching his fists. "i was supposed to give them to you when i picked you up, but i got scared…you don't have to take them, i just thought…i wasn't thinking-"

your hand closes around his hand holding the flowers. your other goes to his face, your thumb brushing his cheek as he falls silent, his eyes fixed on yours, caught in the haze of your touch. slowly, so as not to startle him, you lean in and kiss him gently. it's a beat before he kisses you back, as if he couldn't believe it, and when you pull away just slightly with a soft sound, you can see the nervousness in his eyes. and so you lean in to kiss him again – you kiss him until his lashes flutter shut, until you can feel him settle in his seat, sighing into your mouth as he kisses you deeply. you pull the flowers into your lap, his hand giving up control easily, coming up to your face to hold you in his palms.

"hyuck."

he pauses, leaning back – but his hands only leave your face when you hold them in your own, guiding them down to rest against the center console, your fingers intertwined.

"i never want you to feel like i'm ashamed of being seen with you," he blurts out suddenly.

"what?"

"i never meant to let it get that far," he continues on, looking at his hands. "when i first met you…i wanted you to be like everyone else. i tried to do what i always do, but i just couldn't. you kept getting in my head, and i kept hurting you, and i didn't know how to stop and i just-" he exhales. "i never want to make you feel like that again."

"hyuck, was this a date?"

he swallows. "if you want it to be," he starts, but then he shakes his head. "the truth is, i was afraid you would say no if it was. but i really want it to be. i really really do."

"hyuck," you take a deep breath. "whatever you're going through, you're not going to find the answer in me."

"y/n, i love you," he says, quietly, tenderly. he says it like it's the easiest thing in the world. "i want to be a person who deserves to be with you, and love you, and i know you think you can't change me, and it isn't your responsibility to try at all…but you already have, and you can't take it back. when i'm with you i feel like i can see this version of donghyuck that i want to be all the time for the rest of my life."

"no two people should change to be with each other –" you start, but he shakes his head.

"we aren't a scenario," he insists. "this isn't a hypothetical. there's no should and shouldn't, because you know me –" he's pleading. "i'm not the same boy you saw onstage that first time you came to our show, and you're not that same girl on the roof," he pleads, voice breaking, tears welling up in the pretty cut of his eyes. "why is it so hard for you to believe that this version of us is meant to be together?"

there's silence.

"i can believe it," you start, quietly. "that's what terrifies me."

you can see him start to lose hope. he can't force you to stay with him when you're not ready, and he doesn't want to be that person either.

"i…" he hesitates. he wants to say so much more to you – that no one else makes him feel the way you make him feel. that he feels like he'll never love anyone again, not the way he loves you. the fact that you're it for him in a million different ways, a love he never thought he'd find. that he'll never be able to give anyone else a fair chance.

but he can tell his love makes your shoulders heavy, makes your eyes go foggy with tears. already, you look shattered sitting in the passenger seat of his car, his love a weight on your chest that you don't know what to do with. already he's losing whatever bravery he had before – the bravery his love for you had given him.

"sometimes-" you start, breaking off, your voice quivering. "when we're together, i feel like i could do it for the rest of my life. that you're the only one i've met to make me feel this way, that i'm the only one who knows you so deep."

"you are," he breathes.

"but-" your voice rises, agitated. "you hurt me. again and again. i came back when i wasn't ready, i should've given it more time, i just couldn't stay away. and then you came back into my life, and i forgave you to be with you again, and i tried to give other people a chance but i just…i just couldn't. what if this is too soon again?"

i'll wait. the words are on the tip of his tongue, but he knows its the wrong thing to say, wrong thing to want. there's nothing romantic about waiting for someone – it's a cruel promise, one that rots each day going by in the wait for the future.

"do you…" he takes a deep breath. "do you want to let me go?"

you nod, slowly. haechan can feel his heartbeat in his ears.

"i'm not sorry," you whisper. "it's not right. you…i know you think you know what you want, but i need you to be sure of who you are, and who you want. i can't give you the answers."

haechan remembers how – and it seems so far away, almost like a dream now – the night you went out with jisung, he dreamed of you. dreamed up the final version of you and him – everything good and always good, coming backstage to you, coming home to you. and some part of him had dared to hope, that despite everything, despite himself, the two of you would make it to that final version.

but maybe the final version of you and him was this – the sound of the car door shutting as you walk up the steps to your apartment, and him crying all the way home, roses left in the front seat of the car, the ghost of your hands burning on his face.

(EPILOGUE RELEASE SOON)

@neochan, @ahncosette, @18shy @kittydollzz @jenoslutie @pussymode @yyfka @cheolctrl @jaeminsballs @mysummerhyuck @strawberrytyong @rosiejunnie @nctzen4eva @haechskies @wickedrei @sundamariis @liliansun @lanadreamie @nodisdino @angelwonie @foxydumps @manooffline @moonsmias @skzct7 @iscocohere @ficrecnctskz @makiswrld @itskkung @simpforarmihn @aryraaaa @rbf-aceu @laubyrinthine @yujuvly @nctevia @hyuckenjoyer @guhhfgbbj @girlwholoveslpreppyattire @kasperneo @eneiyri @toroufriteh @cauliephays @jisoung @niinjo @wonaoi @yuskitty @strawbabyz @readingisgodly @daegalfangirl @minkyuncutie @feat-sun @chaoticstrawberryland @shawnyle @sofix-hc7 @scftharu @spageddy @adorejaehyn @manooffline @02mrk @tyongspice1 @runahways @neosdaisy @hotmessexpress35 @kim-seungmins-gf @delllllllsstuff @nohunlee @kingsoowolves @enhasrii @fnafgirl87 @imzerozen @toroufriteh @torothecatt

#haechan smut #fic: rockstar haechan #haechan angst #haechan fluff #haechan au #haechan x reader #nct dream smut #nct dream angst #nct smut #nct angst #haechan scenario #nct 127 smut #nct 127 angst #donghyuck smut

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peachesofteal · 1 day ago

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Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley/female reader

"Mama."

"That's right little man. That's mama." Orion tucks his face into Simon's chest, sleepy and confused. Simon knows he doesn't understand what's happening, why his mother is asleep in a bed, asleep for days without waking, asleep and hooked up to too many machines.

"Mama!" He screeches, swinging his body backwards, and Simon has to hold him tight, trying to keep him close. Cami says he's struggling, doesn't understand why he's at their house all the time, doesn't understand what's happened to his mum. He's confused, and scared, just a little boy in a world trying to hurt him.

"She's sleeping bub. Mama is sleeping." He bows his head, breathing his son in, swallowing the rattle in his chest. "She's sleeping."

You're sinking into that bed.

It's becoming a part of you, becoming all of you, and no matter how many times they bathe you and turn you and change the sheets, you stay tethered to it. In the mornings, when he begins his watch, he kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your mouth, keeping his eyes closed and wishing on nothing that yours will open.

"I'm sorry." He folds your left hand in his. They had to take the rest of your finger, all the way down due to infection, an agonizing reminder of your pain, your suffering. His failure. "I need you to wake up," he croaks in a voice he's only just learned to recognize, one filled with despair, with mourning. "You have to wake up. For Orion and the baby. For me."

He pleads. He bargains. He begs. He promises.

"I'm done now, mama. I'm done. I'll never leave you again. Never leave any of you. 'm taking a desk job, so I need you to wake up so you can be sick of me hanging around the house all day."

Still, nothing.

Once a week, your doctor wheels an ultrasound in to check on the baby. He stares at the screen with tears in his eyes, his hand covering yours.

It's a girl. A perfectly healthy little girl.

He didn't mean to find out but in the pandemonium of those first few days when they brought you here, it slipped his mind. The first time someone talked about the baby, they said her.

"Her heartbeat is strong, and there are no signs of trauma to the placenta. She's okay."

They left the room afterwards. Left him to his ugly, rib splitting sobs. Left him to press his palm to your belly and rest his head on the bed beside you, soaking the sheets with his tears.

A girl. Your Phoenix.

Today, the doctor asks him to step outside.

"We need to discuss some potential plans of care."

"What do you mean?"

"She's close to delivering, Simon. If she doesn't wake, we'll need to do a c-section." His heart stops. That's not supposed to be for months yet. How long have you been here?

"I thought... I thought we had more time."

"We do. Another five weeks or so, but I want to put a plan together, so you have time." Time. He needs more of it. So much more of it with you. He nods, and she gives him a sympathetic smile. "Simon, a newborn and a toddler is a lot of work. I want you to prepare for this possibility, okay?" He pushes it from his mind.

"She'll wake up before then." What the fuck does he know about these things? Nothing. But he refuses to live in a world where you miss the birth of your daughter, where you miss her first breath, her first cry, where you miss the moment where Orion holds his baby sister for the first time.

"Simon-"

"She will," he glares and she pats his shoulder before leaving him in the same spot, frozen, staring at the door to your room.

When he sinks back into his chair, resumes his post, he tugs your hand back into his.

"You'll wake up, mama. I know you will."

#peaches writes #through me (the flood)#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader

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rafesangelita · 3 days ago

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₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW | PROLOGUE

a pogue!sweetheart!reader series by rafesangelita ©

SUMMARY: nothing could’ve ever prepared you for the handsome kook that came crashing into your life.. quite literally. it��s hard to think that at one point you and rafe didn’t know one another, especially since you two have spent every passing day together for the last four months.

WARNINGS: drug use, driving under the influence, reckless driving, rafe arguing with ward, descriptions of a mild injury, mentions of addiction and sobriety, blood, reader tends to rafe’s wounds, fluff, opposite of slowburn, forced proximity (?), time skip (from four months ago to the current day), slight angst

AUTHOR’S NOTE: ahhhhh!! it’s finally here, and i couldn’t be more excited to share this with all of you!! all feedback is deeply appreciated <3 feel free to ask to be added to the taglist if you’d like!

LINKS: series masterlist | next chapter

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

rafe set a new record for himself tonight, and he wasn’t proud of it. not only did he lose count of the lines he snorted off of topper’s coffee table, he also had ward blowing up his phone. “aye, man, i don’t think you should be driving.” topper slurred, downing the alcohol in his glass. cleaning the residue from his nose, rafe shook him off, stumbling through the crowd of people in the living room before hopping in his truck and peeling out of the packed street.

jaw ticking, rafe cursed to himself when his phone started ringing, ward’s contact lighting up the screen. “i’m going home already, alright? yes— yes, dad! i know we have a meeting with some investors in the morning.. what? no i’m not fuckin’ high!” he rambled on, feigning offense when his father called his bluff. “just stop— i know, okay? i’ll be there in a minute—” before rafe could finish his sentence, he took a sharp turn, swerving onto the curb before hitting a light pole.

you were locking up the icecream parlor when you heard the high pitched squeal of tires against the pavement, a loud crash making you jump from your spot in front of the door. spinning on your heels, your eyes widened when you saw a black truck just feet away from the main street, smoke billowing from under the hood. unsure of what to do, you looked around to see if anyone was nearby, but of course, the strip was always empty at this time of the night.

“son of a bitch!” you heard someone groan before they tumbled out of the front seat, falling face down against the concrete. you gasped, dropping your purse before running across the street. “are you okay?!” you helped the stranger sit up, wincing when you saw blood dripping from his nose. he stared at you wide eyed, his pupils blown as you kneeled in front of him. he opened his mouth to speak but no words came out.

“it’s okay, you don’t have to say anything.” you reassured him, slipping off your cardigan before holding it against his nose. you noticed the open gash on his brow, your heart sinking when you saw his eyes soften. “we really need to get you to the emergency, do you have a phone?” rafe shook his head, leaning back against the tire of his truck. “no. well, yes, i have a phone.. somewhere.. but i can’t go to the emergency, not like this.” just then, rafe felt a sharp pain shoot up to his temple from his neck.

“yes, like this! you’re all scraped up.” you said incredulously. “no, i mean i’m not sober.” as if he was waiting for you to judge him, rafe watched as your expression didn’t falter. “i promise you, going to the emergency and getting help from a professional is a lot more better than not going at all. your truck can always be replaced; you can’t.” your words lit a fire in his chest, the sincerity in your tone making him crack a pained smile.

“i’ll go to jail for this, and i just can’t do that right now. i have to be somewhere in the morning, my dad will kill me if he finds out..” remembering that he was on the phone with ward before he crashed, he scrambled up to find the device, only to groan and plop back down on the street. still holding the pink cardigan to his head, you guided his hand to hold it for you. “what are you looking for? i can try to find it.” rafe let out a shaky breath, mumbling “my phone.” before you got up and spotted it near the tire.

turning it over, you held it up for him to see. it was completely shattered. “i don’t think it’s going to work..” you handed it to him, a bitter laugh falling from his lips. “what the fuck?” he breathed out, holding his head in his hands. you’ve never seen someone look so defeated before, your feet moving on their own before you could think. “do you think you can walk? my place is only five minutes away.” rafe looked up like he couldn’t believe the words that just came out of your mouth.

“your place?” he repeated, half shocked and half confused as to why you’d offer him help. “yes,” you nodded, taking his hand in yours, “i don’t have a phone there, but i can at least get you cleaned up..” rafe tried to weigh out his options, only to realize he didn’t have any. “are you sure?” he was truly at your mercy. “yes. here— just keep holding this to your head, let me go get my purse and we can be on our way.” you left him with your cardigan, running across the street and grabbing your bag before getting him up.

“i’m a lot stronger than i thought.” you joked, attempting to lighten the mood as you wrapped one of rafe’s arms around your shoulders. “fuck, what about my truck?” rafe leaned his weight on you, nearly making you topple over before you took a step. “someone will find it and call a tow, you could call the towing company tomorrow,” you explained to him, “do you have anything valuable in there?” rafe laughed, shaking his head. “just my piece of shit phone that has no value now.” he grunted, walking with a slight limp.

“hey, uhm, what’s your name?” rafe looked down at you, both of you sharing a glance before he looked away. despite him not being in the right state of mind, there was no doubting how insanely pretty you were. “y/n.. and yours?” why on earth were you getting butterflies right now? “rafe.” was all he replied before he started asking you an abundant amount of questions. rafe learned a lot about you in the short five minute walk to your camper. what you did for a living, where you currently worked for some extra money, what your hobbies consisted of.. along with being a pogue.

“so.. you live all alone in this pink camper in the middle of the woods? aren’t you scared some psycho will come across it and want to know who’s inside?” he asked, genuinely concerned. “a psycho?” you flashed him a playful smile, “like you?” rafe watched as you unlocked the small screen door, a chuckle threatening to slip from his throat. “i would laugh if it didn’t feel like i had a thousand needles stabbing me in my brain right now.” he swallowed thickly, accepting the hand you offered him to step in.

he was immediately hit with the smell of freshly baked cake and vanilla frosting. he loved it. “i know it’s really small in here, but you could just take a seat right there on that little couch and i’ll go get my first aid kit.” rafe did as you said, eyes darting around your space. pink florals, white lace trim, usually he’d be irked by this kind of decor, but for some reason unbeknownst to him, he didn’t mind it this time. rafe leaned back on the soft sofa, settling into the cushions while you scrambled for the little first aid kit somewhere in your bathroom.

spotting the small box on your little shelf, you grabbed it before making your way back to where rafe was sitting. he opened his eyes momentarily, finding you even more pretty now that darkness didn’t surround you two. he kept his gaze on you, watching as you took your bottom lip between your teeth. “sorry about this..” rafe took the pink cardigan away from his head, the fabric now stained with blood. “oh, don’t worry about it,” you smiled, “you needed it more than i did.”

pressing a damp cloth to his nose, rafe groaned when you applied the slightest bit of pressure. “i’m sorry!” you pouted, taking a seat next to him. rafe reassured you he was alright, a groan leaving his lips as he clutched his stomach. eyebrows knitting in confusion, you lifted his shirt, your eyes widening at the sight. he was scraped and bruised, a small wound adorning his lower abdomen. “here, lets get this off.” you pulled rafe’s t-shirt over his head, both of your cheeks heating at the compromising position.

“we could stop if this is too weird for you—” you shook your head, taking an ice pack out of your freezer. “no, it’s okay.” you pressed the cold bag to his skin, still wiping away the dried blood on his face. “i’m not sure how far you live, but i don’t think it’s a good idea for you to walk anywhere.” your voice was barely above a whisper, the sound of it soothing rafe more than any kind of medicine he could take right now. “don’t worry about me, i’ll be fine.” rafe watched your fingers dance across his stomach, your nails sparkling underneath the dim lighting of your camper.

you thought for a moment. “i guess what i’m trying to say is; i think you’re better off staying the night here..” you trailed off, meeting his gaze, “you’ll be able to get to a phone in the morning and call whoever you need to. you should just get some rest right now.” rafe was stunned. you wanted him to stay? “i don’t know..” he sounded uneasy, not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t help but feel like he was imposing. “it’s okay, i swear! you could take my bed since there’s no way you’ll be able to sleep on this little thing.”

“no, no way, i’m fine with sleeping on the floor.” you smiled at him, eyes flickering down to his lips. “no, really, it’s okay…?” you trailed off, unsure of what to call him since you didn’t know his name. “rafe.” he answered. “rafe,” he liked the way his name sounded rolling off of your tongue, “i’ve fallen asleep plenty of times over here, i’ll be fine on the couch.” you got up, wringing out the towel you were using to clean him up. “i just have one rule, though,” rafe held the ice pack to his stomach, humming as you grabbed some ointment and a couple of bandages.

“you can only lay in my bed if you’re clean.. and you need a shower.” the corner of rafe’s lips quirked. “if you want to see me naked all you have to do is ask.” you blinked, pushing his chest softly. “that’s not what i meant.” you giggled. “i’ll get you a change of clothes, just get in there for right now.” rafe was already too far in to look back. getting up with your assistance, you guided rafe to the bathroom before shutting the door behind him. “there’s clean towels and wash rags on the shelf!” you called from the kitchen, yawning as all of tonight’s events started to catch up with you.

rafe didn’t know what to make of all of this. one minute he was high out of his mind, crashing into a light pole with his dad on the phone, and the next he was inside some gorgeous girl’s camper getting tended to before using a strawberry scented body wash in her shower. what the fuck was his luck? taking his time in the shower, rafe thought about how he’d explain everything to ward tomorrow, from the towed truck to the cuts and bruises.

he wondered if ward would even care.

by the time rafe was done, he was stepping out of the bathroom smelling like a slice of strawberry cake with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. he glanced over at the couch, your back facing him as you slept soundlessly. moving aside the pink curtain that concealed the doorway to your room, rafe slipped into the sweatpants you left out for him, settling underneath your silky soft sheets shortly after.

how was it that you just happened to be the only person around when he crashed? how did he crash right in front of where you worked? and why were you being so nice to him? rafe had so many questions and couldn’t think of any logical answers. he didn’t believe in fate, but looking back on it, that seems to be the only explanation. the next day he woke up to his clothes freshly washed and wearable again, your music playing softly in the kitchen. “good morning!” you chirped, your hair and makeup already done for the day.

“hey..” rafe was still shirtless, his eyes following your every move. “what time is it?” he took a seat at the little booth by the wall, his head no longer pounding the way it did last night. “it’s about to be ten. i was debating if whether or not i should’ve woken you up earlier, but you really needed to sleep.” you leaned back against the counter, admiring the handsome man in your camper. “your wallet should also be with your clothes there on that chair,” you started, “..so i was thinking; the little store just right outside of these woods has a pay phone that you can use.”

rafe nodded. “yeah, that sounds good.” he couldn’t think of the last time he woke up without wanting the day to be over with already. “hey, listen— uhm, i owe you a huge one for everything you’ve done for me.. i apologize if it was an inconvenience in any way, but i really do appreciate you.” rafe got up, grabbing his wallet from your room. “here. please take it.” you looked down at the hundred dollar bills tucked between his fingers, shaking your head as you moved his hands away.

“absolutely not.” you laughed. “no, please, take it.” rafe got closer, opening one of your palms before closing it around the bills. “rafe, i don’t want it!” you backed away, “i’m serious.” rafe let out a sigh. he already knew how this would go, so instead of urging you to keep it, he placed the money on your dresser after he was done changing. “well i guess i’ll be leaving now.” you masked the disappointment on your face by offering him a smile. “yeah, i guess so..” without saying a word, you and rafe stared at each other before he wrapped his arms around you, the action giving you butterflies.

before you could say or do anything, he pulled away and left, leaving your camper feeling more emptier than usual. you walked over to the door where you watched him walk away until you couldn’t see him anymore, a pout on your lips as you did so. while you were sure that you would more than likely never see him again, you couldn’t be more wrong. that day was the first of approximately one hundred and twenty one days, and counting, that you two would spend together. rafe came back to you the next day with a brand new pink cardigan to replace the other one you so selflessly let him ruin.

one icecream date turned into several, which then progressed into him coming over to your place with an overnight bag, his very own toothbrush now taking a spot next to yours. which then led to him picking you up and dropping you off at work, and so on until he finally said that you were his. you two spent the entire summer underneath the trees, rolling around in the grass as you two gasped each other’s names into your mouths, sharing sweet kisses and an even sweeter love that continued to grow with no intentions of ever stopping.

rafe had gotten sober out of fear that he wouldn’t remember what a love like this felt like if he was high all the time, and without judgement, you were there with him every step of the way. you stayed by his side when he felt like all hope was lost, and for that he could never thank you enough. although ward wondered where rafe would go off to, he didn’t bring himself to care as long as he was doing what he needed to do for the family business. with his dad off of his back, and you to come ‘home’ to everyday, he could say that he was truly happy.

even now as you two sat in your favorite diner, sharing a milkshake and laughing at whatever the other was saying, you felt no worries when you and rafe were together, your heart threatening to burst at the seams everytime you looked at him. everything was perfect.. at least for now. all good things must come to an end, and when you two are threatened by none other than ward himself, the love bubble you two have been mindlessly floating in is suddenly popped.

taglist: @percysley @oceandriveab @archiveofvirtue @weirdowithnobeardo @mattyskies @ankoluvly @cnnamongrl @b3bybunny @littlelamy @nemesyaaa @lovinqbella @jeonmochi99-blog @corpsebridenightamare @whorelaud @mymvlody @idontknowwhyimhere33 @ursovaine

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random-thot-generator · 2 days ago

Text

Simon's drunk and just wants to go to bed with his sweetheart.

cw: MDNI- gets a wee bit hot spicy , possible dub con (or is it?) 😏

>>>>>

It's after one in the morning when a heavy knock at the door startles you out of a sound sleep.

You sit up in bed, still half-asleep and confused, and squint at the clock on your nightstand. Not sure what woke you, you're about to lie back down when you hear the knock again. That's never a good thing this late at night.

Now wide awake and scared out of your wits, you slide out of bed and throw on your robe. Creeping through your flat, you tiptoe up to the door and peer through the peephole, seeing an all too familiar face blinking blearily at your door.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, you unlock the door, but leave the chain on, and open it just enough to peek through the gap. "Jesus, Simon. You scared the shit out of me!"

The big Manc is standing on your stoop, swaying in place, his dark brown eyes bloodshot and drooping. "'M sorry, sweet'art. Know it's late. Had a few wiff the lads an' now I can't find m'keys." He inhales a deep breath then hiccups and makes a face. "Will ya let me in?"

He's obviously drunk, but that pitiful, hangdog face gets to you. You slip the chain and open the door. "C'mon in."

Simon shuffles inside and immediately stoops to unlace his boots, nearly pitching face-first onto the floor. "Simon!" you gasp, grabbing his arm. "You're going to hurt yourself. Go sit on the couch."

Unsteady, he stumbles to the couch and basically falls onto it, grunting as he rights himself and drops his head back on the cushions.

"'M s'sorry, love. Shouldn't uh woke ya. Jus' missed ya. Needed t'see ya."

You quirk a brow, smirking. Yeah. Totally wasted. Probably best to let him sleep it off on the couch, then give him hell in the morning. You'll help get him comfortable then let him pass out.

"Let's get your boots off, Si."

Kneeling at his feet, you start working on the laces when you feel his big hand rest on the top of your head. You glance up and smile at him, amused. His hand slides down to cup your cheek, his dark eyes watery as he stares down at you.

"Yer too good t'me, sweet'art. Bess day uh my life is when I met ya."

That actually makes you melt a little. "Aw. That's sweet, Simon."

His brows scrunch together. "'S true, love. Knew the moment I saw ya, you was meant t'be mine."

"What?"

"'M gonna take care uh ya, sweet'art. Gonna take a post at base, trainin' recruits. No more leavin' ya all alone. Worries the hell outta me, doin' tha'."

"Simon, love, you're drunk, talking out of your head. You and me aren't—"

"I know, love. I know," he murmurs, cupping the back of your head. "We're not married yet, but we're gonna be. Be proud t'have ya as my missus. Olready think uh ya like m'wife, anyway. An' one day, ya'll be the mother uh my kids. Yer gonna make a damn good mum, sweet'art; I can tell."

You huff out an exasperated laugh. "Whoa, Simon! This is getting a little too—"

He presses his thumb over your lips and chuckles lowly. "I know, sweet girl. Gettin' ahead uh m'self. Don't worry, love. We'll find a nice place t'settle, first. One uh them quiet li'l villages near the base. Need t'put my pretty wife in a proper home a'fore we start makin' babies." He smirks. "Don't mean we can't practice, though, yeah?"

He reaches for you, but you crab walk backwards. "Si, you've been drinking. We can't—"

You bleat out a startled yelp when he grabs hold of your ankles and drags you back within his reach. Big hands gripping your waist, he picks you up off the floor like a toddler and plops you on his lap, then proceeds to kiss you stupid. Hands kneading and groping, tongue shoved down your throat, you can feel his erection pressing up into the thin material between your legs.

Oh, mercy!

Finally breaking the kiss, he stands in one swift motion, making your already spinning head reel. Pupils blown wide, he smirks down at you with a feral light smoldering in his eyes. "Never too drunk t'give my li'l woman a proper fuckin'," he purrs darkly, then his lips latch onto yours again.

Lying limp as a ragdoll in his arms, he carries you back to your bed and shows you just what a proper fucking is. Several times. He must not have been as drunk as you thought. Come to think of it, he didn't taste like alcohol at all.

The sky is beginning to lighten with the approach of dawn before he finally turns you on your side and curls himself around you. One hand wedged between your legs, the other holding onto your tit, he nuzzles the back of your neck until he eventually drops off into an exhausted sleep.

You blink tired eyes at your bedside clock, remembering you're scheduled to work. Your head flops back down on your pillow. There's no way you're making it into work in the morning. Hell, you're not even sure if you're going to be able to walk tomorrow— not normally, anyway. Even so, you can't be mad about it, not after all those orgasms. Simon truly had a gift; the man is a giver.

Feeling sated, safe and warm, you snuggle back into Simon, ready to fall asleep. Still, your hazy mind can't help but wonder...

What's he going to think when he wakes up next to his favorite barista and not in his own bed?

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty

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motorsportbarbie13 · 2 days ago

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The Yapping Hour Is Upon Us - The Royal Wedding

In which you and Max tie the knot.

Warnings: just fluff. a bit of anxiety talk but nothing Max can't fix. Pairing: Max Verstappen x Podcaster!Reader Word Count: 5k

- The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - Part 2 - The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - Part 3 - The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - Part 4 - The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - Bonus Sessions - Master List

After getting engaged, there were two things that you and Max almost immediately agreed upon: first, because so much of both of your lives were already available for public consumption, you wanted to protect the peace and privacy of your wedding as much as possible. And second, you didn’t want to wait until the next summer break to get married.

Growing up, it was a cliche fact but a fact all the same, that you often thought of what you wanted your wedding to be like. You were even very much guilty of having secret wedding Pinterest boards set up all through high school and college. But the moment the even presented itself in real life, you suddenly felt choked by the weight of what a big wedding could entail.

It had been Max that had suggested the solution in the end, his idea passed by you casually one night as you walked hand in hand back to your hotel after dinner before the race in Italy. He had sensed your hesitation around hosting such a big, over the top wedding that everyone seemed to assume you wanted. The spark in your eye faded just a bit when Alex and Carmen had started talking about wedding venues and guest lists and he hadn’t missed the way your shoulders hitched up a bit more towards your ears as you listened to your friends ramble.

“What if we just eloped?” He works to keep his tone causal, not wanting to give away how appealing that idea sounds to him. He wants you to choose the kind and scale of wedding you want all on your own because he knows you’d do anything for him, right down to agreeing to plan a wedding that doesn’t suit you at all.

You stop dead in your tracks, Birkin bag swinging wildly at your elbow from the sudden halt. “What?”

Max sticks his hands deep in the pockets of his khakis, giving you a knowing smile. “You heard me. What if we just said ‘fuck this’ and ran off to the beach and got married by some old fishing captain. Captains can legally marry people, right? That’s a thing?”

Not for the first time in your relationship, you’re stunned into silence at something your soon-to-be husband says. For a moment all you can do is blink at him, trying to figure out if he’s fucking with you or not. “You’d…you’d want that?”

Max steps forward, earnest look on his handsome face. “Baby,” He murmurs, framing both sides of your face with his strong hands. “Baby, I’d marry you in an alley way in the middle of New York City. I don’t care where or how, all I care about is that we come out at the end of this married and tied together for life. I don’t care about the wedding, I care about the marriage.”

Max watches as your pupils blow wide, shy smile tugging at your lips. “That might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Max’s forehead rests on yours and he lets out a breathy chuckle. “Well, it’s true. I want you to have the wedding of your dreams because I know that will make you happy but other than that, I don’t care.”

He’d do anything to make sure you were happy, knowing it was just this side of obsessive the way he took you into consideration with every decision he made. Standing opposite of the man who consumed your entire soul, your stomach dipped low, the pleasant swooping sensation something you’ve become accustomed to over the last year. “I just feel so overwhelmed. Both of our lives are already so public and under scrutiny. I want this to be something that we can cherish without any of the potential tarnish of what it means to be so public.”

You shake your head, feeling a little silly and what you’re feeling. “I love our lives and know we’re privileged to live like this but sometimes I just want to have something that’s just ours. I want to share our love and relationship with everyone but maybe we could just shield some of it from the world?”

An idea forms in Max’s head then. “What if we eloped somewhere just the two of us and then have a party to celebrate with everyone after?”

You nod, “Have is quietly ours for a while before sharing the news with everyone?”

Max reaches for you, enjoying the way you press against him with ease. It’s a warm Italian summer night, the scent of perfumed flowers and left over sunshine hung heavy in the air and you wanted to snap this moment into something that stayed with you forever. Max’s hands heavy on your hips, digging into the flesh there as if he can’t get enough of you despite not leaving your side for the last 24 hours.

Ever since getting engaged, you’d hated spending any length of time away from Max, almost like your soul had already started to twin itself to him. It made leaving difficult but returning was always so sweet. You had this weekend in Italy before you had to leave on another trip but you’d been considering ramping down your travel over the next few months. But, that was another conversation for another day.

“Where would we go? And when?” The more you thought bout it, the more the thought of what Max was suggesting appealed to you.

Max releases you before taking your hand as you two start back towards your hotel, feeling a bit lighter at seemingly solving the problem that had been weighing on you for a few days.

“We could do it this winter? There’s always a total shut down of everything that week between Christmas and New Years. We’d see our families for Christmas and escape saying we were just taking a trip the two of us.”

You grin up at him, liking where he was going with this.

yourpersonalinsta posted

129,938 likes liked by yourdad, assistantshannon, maxverstappen1, and others yourpersonalisnta sun, sand, and a very cute finace kikagomes is this that place in Mexico you were talking about?! It looks so pretty! >>>yourpersonalinsta yes!!! it is gorgeous. you and P need to come here some day. alexandrasaintmleux gorgeous gorgeous girl >>>yourpersonalinsta love you bby user029 dream life fr user0092 looks like paradise! tell max congrats on his 5th title for us!!

December, 2025

The warm ocean breeze fluttered through the wide open doors of the villa behind you as the bright December sun heated your skin where you laid on a lounge chair. Next to you, Max was sprawled out on on the chair next to you, snoring softly as he took what you thought might just be his third nap of the day.

Ever since the pair of you had arrived in Mexico a few days ago, you hand’t done much beyond sleep, eat, and fuck. The 2025 season had been the most stressful, chaotic, out of control season Max had ever had and while he had managed to clinch the championship on in Abu Dhabi from Lando, but it had been a difficult ride to get there. So when Christmas had been celebrated and you had jumped on the jet to fly from Monaco over to Mexico, you couldn’t help but continually breathe a sigh of relief.

The fight had truly weighed on Max, the hollows underneath his eyes growing more and more prominent as the race weeks ticked by. The only relief he had gotten had been your midseason trip to Thailand when he had proposed. When Jensen had asked him what had gotten him through the difficult second half of the season during an interview after he won the championship, his immediate answer had simply been you.

Much to the disappointment of your fans, you had decided to really ramp down the amount of travel and work you had done following the summer break. Max had been resident at first, not even wanting to entertain he conversation at first when you had brought it up shortly after it had been decided you were going to elope. He didn’t want to even think of you putting your career on hold for him, to take care of him, to follow him. Not because he didn’t want you around. It was the exact opposite. Just the thought of you spending more time traveling with him instead of the insane schedule you’d been keeping over the last year had relief flooding through him. While he was tired from his schedule and the pressure of winning a 5th consecutive world title, he knew you were tired too. There were many times you both went weeks without setting foot in your shared apartment and sometimes you’d go weeks between seeing each other too.

No, it wasn’t because he didn’t want you around. It was because he didn’t want you to resent him one day down the line that you had given up your career for him. He couldn’t bare the thought of being the cause of any resentment or heartache for you and despite how much he wanted you by his side every possible moment.

In the end, reason had won out as you had explained that you weren’t taking a break because of him. He was certainly part of it, but like him, you were exhausted. You reminded Max of Brazil last year, how you had slept for so long the day after the race there that Max had postponed your flights home for another week he was so worried about you getting sick.

You had done a few interviews since the engagement, mostly with people in the motorsport world: Susie and Toto Wolff, Natalie Pinkham, and of course Lewis being your biggest interviews. In addition, you had done some post race interviews and coverage for F1TV, which allowed you to have even more of a reason to be in the paddock week in and week out. You weren’t sure where your podcast was going in the future, but for now, you were content with the schedule and where you were professionally, despite what some of your critics might be whispering.

All of this works through your mind as Max begins to stir beside you. His eyes blink open eventually and when they do, they immediately find you. “Hi baby.” He whispers, voice rough with sleep.

“Good morning, sleepy head.” You grin, setting your book down beside you as Max rolls over onto his side, creating some space for you on the oversized lounge chair, beckoning you to join him.

As you snuggle deeper into his chest, Max slots his thigh between your legs and slips his top arm over your waist, pulling you closer. “You looked deep in thought. Everything okay?” He murmurs before his lips ghost over your cheek.

“Hmmm, of course. Just thinking about this year and how good it feels to just breathe.”

Max could tell when you got in one of your thinking moods just by the way your body language shifted. In those few moments between when he had woken up and you had noticed his eyes open, he had watched you staring out over the villa’s lawn. Your shoulders were relaxed, the usual pinch between your brows completely absent and with legs crossed at your ankles as you read your book, you had looked the picture of relaxed.

“You still feeling okay about tomorrow?”

Just the thought of what tomorrow would bring made your heart rate pitch up a bit. The first morning after your arrival, you and Max had gone over to the concierge in the main reception building to tell them of your plans for an elopement. They had, of course, been ecstatic and ready to help you in whatever way you wanted. After a few hours of discussion, you had everything planned and the concierge snapped into action.

“I am…unless you’re not?” It occurs to you that Max has been awfully quiet this morning, a soft reflective mood taking over his usual energetic attitude and suddenly, anxiety pinches in your chest. You desperately search Max’s face for any sign of hesitation or regret, not knowing what you’d do if he suddenly got cold feet before tomorrow.

Max shakes his head before pulling you even closer, fingers digging into the bare flesh of your hip, covered only by the little string of your bikini that you’ve been living in since you got here. “Lifeje, stop that. You know I would have married you the moment after I proposed to you months ago.”

Something settles in you at his words, having just needed that little bit of reassurance from him. As hard as you tired and as much as Max made sure to never leave any doubt in your mind that he was all in with you, you sometimes still found your anxiety getting the best of you. Scenarios about how Max was having second thoughts, how he didn’t really want to marry you, how this was all in your head sometimes ran rampant in your head. You were getting better at controlling them, especially after he had proposed but that was the funny thing about anxiety, you couldn’t always control it.

“I know.” You whisper, fingers trailing up and down his toned arm that was wrapped around you tightly.

“Anxiety?” It was almost spooky how well Max could read you from just a shift in your tone of voice. All you could do was nod, suddenly feeling silly. Max rolled his hips into yours, pulling your lower half closer. “Do you feel what you do to me?” He asked, pressing his already half hard cock into your center. “Do you feel what you do to me just laying here? All you have to do is look at me and I’m a goner. There isn’t a single second thought in my mind, love.”

“I’m sorry I’m hard to love sometimes.” Tears prick at the corner of your eyes as Max lifts your chin so he can have a better look at you. “I’m sorry you have to constantly reassure me despite not giving me any reason to doubt you. I know it can’t be easy.”

You had spent most of your adult life being told how difficult you were to love. How hard it was to deal with the constant reassurance you needed when the anxiety crept in, telling you you weren’t good enough. It was unnerving sometimes when Max loved you so easily and effortlessly because how did he find it so easy to do when no one else before him had?

Max pulls back so he can get a good look in those pretty eyes of yours. It made him rage internally knowing how insecure you were. Not because he faulted you. Oh, absolutely not. He raged at the people that made you feel like you were inferior and hard to love because that was something that he simply didn’t see. Loving you and being with you was the easiest thing he’d ever done in his life.

“I want you to listen to me, okay?” He waits, brows raised, until you nod. “I will gladly spend the rest of my life telling you how much I worship you whenever and however you need or want me to. When I take those vows tomorrow, I mean it with every bit of my soul, schatje. For worse or better, you’re mine and I’m yours from tomorrow on, okay? You are not hard to love and I am so lucky I get the privilege of telling you every single day how much I love you.”

Your mind settles a bit at his words as you let the sensation of having Max so close to you wash over your anxious nerves. “How did I get so lucky to have you?”

“Oh, sweet girl it’s not you that’s lucky.” Max leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips as you sigh into him. “I’m the lucky one that somehow coincided you to love me back.”

There were only two people in your lives besides you and Max that knew what you two were really doing in Mexico. GP because Max was physically incapable of keeping anything from his race engineer and your assistant Shannon. GP had called Max out on his sudden change in demeanor in Italy after the decision to elope had been made, asking Max what had happened in the previous 12 hours to make him not so grumpy when he showed up to the track that morning. Max being a terrible liar when it came to GP had been unable to think quick enough to come up with an excuse and when he had simply looked at GP with a deer in the headlights look, he had fessed up and spilled the beans. When you had found out that Max had told GP you had sworn the race engineer to total secrecy, telling him you’d cut off a very important body part of his if it got leaked.

Shannon was the other person that knew and it was only because you had needed help with choosing and figuring out how to sneakily order, tailor, and pack a wedding gown without anyone getting wind of it. You knew if the paparazzi had caught sight of you leaving a bridal boutique with a dress in hand nearly a year before you had told everyone else that you were planning on getting married, people would talk. So, with Max’s approval, you had enlisted the help of your personal assistant who had honestly turned into one of your closest friends over the time that she had worked with you.

It had been Shannon that helped you choose the dress that you wore the morning you married Max, the white lace clinging to every curve and valley of your body. It was just going to be the two of you, the officiant, and the photographer there and the utter quiet and simplicity of getting ready in complete silence and peace was something you would cherish for the rest of your life. Max had left the villa about an hour ago, telling you he had a few errands to run before the officiant would turn up for the ceremony. What kind of errands could he be doing in the middle of a luxury resort in the middle of the Mexican jungle, you had no idea but you hadn’t asked any questions because you wanted the time alone to get ready.

You’re just slipping on the second thin strap up over your shoulder when there’s a knock at the villa door moments before it swings open. Max comes bustling in, wearing the khaki pants and white linen shirt you had chosen for the beach nuptials. He’s got a fresh haircut and shaved face, his bright blue eyes looking for you the moment he walks in the door. In his hand dangles a little black bag with silver ties that doesn’t look big enough to hold much more than a small box or two.

“Lifeje, where are -” Max stops in his tracks when you round the corner out of the bedroom and he sees you for the first time. His hand goes straight to his sternum, rubbing at the place that is suddenly aching at the mere sight of you. He had thought he’d been prepared to see you in your wedding dress but what he saw in front of him made every coherent thought tumble right out of his head. If he had thought you were the prettiest woman he’d ever seen before, seeing you standing there before him in the white lace dress with it’s plunging neckline and fabric clinging to your every curve, just confirmed that he was the luckiest person in the entire world. “Christ.” He whispers, unable to move from the spot he’s rooted to.

You let out a little uncertain giggle, tucking a piece of hair that you had left out of the sleek low bun you had styled your hair in for the day behind your ear. “Do I look okay?”

Max finds the ability to move then, crossing the room in just a few strides, suddenly needing nothing more than to touch you. He had to know what that lace felt like under his fingers, had to know if your skin looked as radiant up close as it did when he had first walked into the villa.

“I am so glad I wrote my vows down because there is no way I’m remembering anything while I look at you.” He croaks, voice becoming totally unreliable with emotion just seeing you dressed like this solely for him brings up. “I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful in my entire life, schatje. ”

And it was the truth. Max had never seen anyone as gorgeous as you were standing there in that white dress, veil tucked into the top of your bun so it cascaded down over your shoulders. The dress pools at your feet and dips low in the back, showing off the tanned and toned body you work so hard for. At your ears wink the diamonds Max had gotten you for Christmas just a week earlier. A diamond and sapphire necklace set in platinum sits at your throat, also a gift from Max for your one year anniversary earlier in the year. Seeing you wearing the jewels that he’s bought for you does something to Max, a possessive streak proudly zipping through him at the thought of you dripping in expensive baubles that he’s bought you.

“What’s in the bag?” You ask as Max settles his hands low on your hips, still checking you out with absolutely no shame whatsoever.

He seems to remember that there’s something else in the room other than you then, holding the bag out to you with a sly grin on his face. “I know we said our wedding bands were going to be our presents to each other but I saw this the other day when we were out shopping in that little jewelry store and had to go back to get it.”

You raise a brow but know better than to argue about Max spoiling you. It’s a lost cause at this point and you settled for just accepting the pretty things he liked to give you simply because he loved seeing you in them a long time ago. You take the bag from his hands and reaching in, you pull out a long, slender velvet box.

When you open the box, you barely stifle a gasp at the delicate bracelet sitting on the black satin. It’s the diamond and pearl tennis bracelet set in platinum that you had casually looked at yesterday when you and Max had gone into town to do some shopping and had mentioned in an off handed comment that you had liked how the pearls and diamonds worked so well together, although you had ultimately decided not to get it because of the price tag and the fact that you thought you’d never have anywhere to wear it.

“Max.” You whisper, gaze darting up from the box to Max’s own eager look. “It’s…it’s so pretty I don’t have the words. You spoil me.”

“And I’m going to continue to spoil you for the rest of our lives, lifeje. Now, can I put it on you so you can be dripping in diamonds for our wedding day, please?”

You laugh a little, somehow unsure of how you got this lucky to be here in Mexico marrying the man that literally worships the ground you walk on.

“Now, I understand that you both have written your vows for each other. Max, would you like to go first?”

Later that afternoon, the two of you stand barefoot on the beach, a gentle breeze teasing the veil at the back of your head, while the officiant the hotel recommended stands before you. The atmosphere could not be more perfect. The sun hangs low in the sky, sunset just an hour or two away so the golden rays cascade over you and Max. Behind you, the photographer you hired snaps discreetly away. The fact that it’s just the four of you on the beach witnessing this could not have been more perfect.

Max stands opposite you, large hands swallowing your smaller ones, and takes a deep breath. You can see the emotion playing plainly on his face and know he’s going to have a hard time getting through these words. For the outside world, Max Verstappen is a hardened competitor that takes no shit and will do anything to win. But here? On the beach with just you and 2 others as he professes his love and adoration to you, he’s as soft as kitten and almost more emotional than you are.

He couldn’t have been happier at his decision to write down the words to his vows because the emotions that swirled in him then, as he stands there looking at you in your wedding dress is so overwhelming he can barely put together a coherent thought. Here he was, the man that has won five world championships and zips around a race track at 200 miles per hour regularly, completely unable to speak he’s so happy.

The paper is a bit crumpled when he pulls it out of the pocket of his khakis but it’s fine all the same. He clears his throat nervously and then begins. “When Melissa suggested I go on your podcast, she said it would be an amazing PR opportunity for me. I think I told her no five times but on that sixth time, I agreed because GP said he thought I’d like you and then he sent me that interview. And then I walked into that studio on that cold, rainy April and have never thanked GP and Melissa so fast. That first time I saw you, I felt my entire world shift beneath my feet. Having the childhood I did ruined the idea of love for me for most of my life but the moment you waltzed into my life, schatje, I knew that you were going to show me how wrong I’d been. I love you endlessly and will forever be thankful that you’ve shown me what the meaning of real, true, unconditional love is.” Max takes a breath, swiping at an errant tear that falls down his cheek.

Across from him, you grip at his hands, desperately trying to commit this entire moment to memory. You’re endlessly glad you both had written your vows so you’d be able to look back and remember what was said today on this beach.

“I promise to love, honor, cherish, and spoil you,” He pauses when you chuckle and roll your eyes, but just squeezes your hand before continuing on. “Whatever you need, you’ll have. Whatever you want, it’s yours. I promise to spend the rest of my life making sure you never want for anything ever again, both material wants but also emotional wants. You are my number one priority from here on out and I vow to never ever stop living up to these promises. I never believed in soulmates until I saw you for the first time and words can’t accurately describe how much I love you. Having the title of your husband is worth a million and one world champion titles and I promise to spend the rest of my days proving that to you.”

The emotions ripple over you as Max concludes his vows. The officiant turns to you, dipping his head to let you know it’s now your turn. Max squeezes your hands together and you drown in the watercolor blue eyes looking back at you for a moment.

“I stopped believing in soulmates a long time ago. That is until you walked into that recording studio and looked at me like you’d known me for our entire lives. I tried so hard not to get ahead of myself for so long, but it was that first time you flew me down to Miami two weeks after meeting you that I knew. I knew that you were it for me, that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. We’ve been through so much in such a short time and I know there are so many people that are going to think we’re criminally insane for doing this. But it’s nearly impossible to put into words what you’ve done to my soul in such a short time, Max. I know it’s beyond cliche but you’ve altered who I am at my very core. I’ve never been with someone so unwaveringly supportive of everything that I am and everything that I do.” You draw in a shaky breath then, needing a moment before you can make the rest of your words materialize.

“I promise to love you so unconditionally and strongly for the rest of my life. I promise to be by your side during the highs and lows of your career, on and off the track. The life we live is so fast and so difficult sometimes but just knowing that you’re on the other side of that plane ride, waiting for me to come home to you, makes everything we do worth it. I promise to give you whatever you need no matter how difficult it may be. You are my life now and I will spend the rest of my life showing up for you. Soulmates are real and you’re mine. I’m so thankful that I found you, Max. I love you.”

A quiet settles between you and Max then, the vows cementing the bond you’ve been building since that first day in the recording studio. The officiant and photographer seem to sense it too, their soft smiles playing on their lips as they give the vows that were just exchanged a chance to sink in for each of you.

Rings are exchanged and before you’re able to get a handle on things, the officiant declares you and Max husband and wife. The feeling of sheer relief and excitement washes over both you and Max as you’re told to seal the vows with a kiss. And what a kiss it is. Max pours his entire soul into the first kiss he shares with you as your husband. Everything he said in his vows being repeated by the way his lips cover yours, working over your mouth in such a way that has your knees buckling.

“I love you so much, wife.” Max murmurs against your lips just before breaking the first of many kisses between husband and wife.

maxverstappen1 posted

1,309,292 likes liked by yourpersonalinsta, redbullracing, assistant shannon, and others maxverstappen1 she's stuck with me forever now danielricciardo EXCUSE ME BUT WHAT THE FUCK user028 did they ELOPE??? Without telling ANYONE??? OH MY GOD??? HELLO??? user448 somehow, this feels very on brand for the both of them >>>user432 i was just thinking the same thing. charlesleclerc I'm sorry, WHAT??? yourpersonalinsta love you, husband >>>user0299 oh my god, i cannot be normal about this landonorris kinda heartbroken I didn't get to be the flower boy, ngl >>>user998 this is such a lando comment oscarpiastri wow! didn't even know you were engaged! congrats. man! >>>user332 why is this the most Oscar Piastri comment I've ever read??? >>>user948 HAHA OSCAR

yourpersonalinsta posted

1,029,398 likes liked by yourdad, maxverstappen1, assistantshannon, and others yourpersonalinsta wife>>>fiance user0298 the HAND PLACEMENT in that last photo. Max, my maaaan. user918 they eloped and didn't tell a single soul. i fucking love this so hard. kikagomes OH. MY. GOD. Congratulations gorgeous girl!!! >>>yourpersonalinsta love you pretty girl! user8892 my man wins his 5th world championship and then gets married in secret, max is winning at life rn assistantshannon so happy for you boss lady. you and max deserve the world. love you!!! >>>yourpersonalinsa so thankful i had your help with this, sweet girl. user827 are we just going to ignore the TATTOO on Max's wrist??? HER??? >>>user0291 oh my god oh my god

tag list: @shelbyteller @formulaal @martygraciesversion381 @longhairkoo @samantha-chicago @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland

#f1 #formula 1 #max verstappen #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fic #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fluff

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puppym3 · 2 days ago

Text

❤ SKZ reaction to you with baby fever! ❤

MDNI 18+

wc: 23.4k (about 5k each)

genre: fluff, humor, smut

warnings: a lot of baby-making, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, very steamy, oral (f + m rec), choking, marking, daddy energy, some switch vibes from some, dom member mostly, breeding kink?, we dunno if it was successful!, don't recreate at home, (please let me know if i missed any)

a/n: i was tired of starving you guys so i just made 8 individual fics for all of them! hope you enjoy <3

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Bang Chan :

The soft hum of the TV played in the background as you nestled into Bang Chan’s side, his arm draped lazily around your shoulders. His warmth seeped into you, his scent, clean and familiar, grounding you in the moment. The glow from the screen illuminated his profile, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the faint scrunch of concentration on his face as he scrolled through his phone. He didn’t have to try; even here, in worn-out sweatpants and a hoodie, he exuded that quiet strength and warmth that made you fall for him every day.

Your heart tightened as you watched him, the weight of the thought you’d been holding in for months pressing heavily on your chest. Two years of marriage had passed in a blissful blur, filled with laughter, love, and late-night talks. But there was something you wanted, something you’d dreamed of every time you saw him interacting with kids, the way they lit up in his presence. You wanted a family with him. You wanted to see his kind eyes reflected in someone small, to hear his laughter echo through your home in a way that belonged entirely to the two of you.

But every time you imagined telling him, your courage faltered. What if he wasn’t ready? What if he didn’t want that yet? The fear of disrupting the perfect harmony you had kept you silent, until tonight.

You shifted slightly in his hold, your fingers nervously twisting the hem of your shirt. The words were bubbling at the edge of your tongue, and your heart raced like a drumbeat, loud and insistent. “Chan?” you murmured, barely louder than the TV.

“Hmm?” His response was distracted, his thumb still swiping on the screen as he hummed softly under his breath. Even that small sound sent warmth curling through you.

“I’ve been thinking about something,” you started, voice hesitant but determined.

That got his attention. He immediately set his phone down on the armrest and turned to you, his dark eyes locking onto yours. Concern flickered across his face, and he tilted his head slightly, his brows knitting together. “Yeah? What’s up?” His voice was gentle, grounding you in the safe space he always provided.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing. The words felt heavy, like if you said them, there was no taking them back. But you’d held them in for so long, and if you didn’t say them now, you weren’t sure when you’d find the courage again.

“I’ve been thinking about us,” you said slowly, glancing down at your lap where your fingers twisted together nervously. “About what’s next for us.”

His expression softened, his body shifting as he turned fully toward you. He rested a hand on your knee, his thumb brushing soothing circles against your skin. “Okay,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Talk to me, love. What’s on your mind?”

The weight of his gaze made your cheeks flush, but his touch grounded you. You glanced up, meeting his eyes, and took a deep breath. “What if… what if we started trying? For a baby, I mean.”

The silence that followed was deafening. His hand stilled on your knee, his eyes widening ever so slightly as your words sank in. He blinked at you, his lips parting as though to speak, but no sound came out. You watched as the realization hit him, his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink.

“A baby?” he finally managed, his voice cracking slightly on the word.

You nodded, a wave of relief washing over you now that it was out in the open. “Yeah,” you said, the words spilling out in a rush. “I know it’s a big step, and I didn’t want to pressure you, but I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. And I just… I think you’d be an amazing dad, Chan. I really do.”

His mouth opened and closed a few times, like he couldn’t quite find the words. Then he let out a breathless laugh, running a hand through his messy curls. “Wow,” he said softly, his voice tinged with disbelief. “That’s… wow.” He shook his head, a nervous grin spreading across his face. “You really think I’d be a good dad?”

“Of course,” you said, your voice steady with conviction. “You’re patient, kind, and thoughtful. And you’re so good with kids, Chan. They adore you.”

His blush deepened, and he let out a groan, burying his face in his hands. “Stop it. You’re embarrassing me.”

You laughed, reaching out to gently tug his hands away from his face. “You’re cute when you’re flustered,” you teased, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

He huffed, though his lips twitched into a smile. “You can’t just drop something like that on me and expect me to act normal. You’re talking about a baby. Our baby.”

The way he said it, soft and reverent like he was tasting the words for the first time, made your heart ache in the best way. “So… what do you think?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached out to cup your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours with a tenderness that made your breath catch. “I think…” he said slowly, his voice steady and sure, “I love you more than anything in this world. And if having a baby is what you want, then it’s what I want too.”

Your chest swelled with emotion, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Really?”

“Really,” he said, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll probably mess up a lot, but if you believe in me that much… then I’ll give it everything I’ve got.”

Tears spilled over as you laughed softly, your hands coming up to cover his. He pulled you closer, wrapping you in his arms like he was trying to shield you from the world.

After a moment, he pulled back slightly, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “I mean, I’m not saying no to all the, uh… practice it’s going to take.”

You smacked his arm lightly, your cheeks burning. “Chan!”

“What?” he said, feigning innocence as his grin widened. “I’m just saying, we should make sure we’re doing it right. You know, aim for perfection.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing against your jaw as his hands slid to your waist, pulling you into his lap. His voice dropped to a husky whisper, sending shivers down your spine. “We’ve got all night, love.”

The butterflies in your stomach erupted as his lips found yours, soft and deliberate, pouring all his love into the kiss. You melted into him, losing yourself in the taste of his lips, the warmth of his hands, the steady beat of his heart.

He was the one who finally broke the kiss, his breath coming out in short, shallow pants. He leaned his forehead against yours, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek.

"You know, we could always start trying now," he said, the words sending heat rushing through you.

You gave a breathless laugh, looping your arms around his neck. "I like the way you think, Mr. Bang," you said, grinning against his lips.

He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Definitely," you said, your voice dropping to a whisper. "Take me to bed."

A low giggle escaped him as he leaned forward, his hands sliding down to the backs of your thighs. "It'd be my pleasure, Mrs. Bang," he murmured, his lips hovering over yours.

And with that, he stood, carrying you easily across the room.

Your heart raced in anticipation, the familiar weight of his touch making you feel lightheaded. The soft glow of the TV dimly illuminated the room, casting shadows across the walls. The low murmur of the news anchor's voice seemed distant and unimportant, replaced by the sound of your heartbeat echoing in your ears.

Bang Chan's warm hands cradled you, his lips pressed gently to your hair as he carried you across the threshold and into the bedroom, his movements careful and deliberate. Your eyes slipped closed, savoring the closeness, the safety, the comfort of being enveloped by him.

When you felt him set you down, you reluctantly opened your eyes. You were greeted by the sight of Chan's broad shoulders, his back turned to you as he shut the door with a quiet click.

As he turned back toward you, you took a moment to appreciate the view. His sweatpants hung low on his hips, drawing your gaze downward. A familiar heat pooled between your thighs, and you bit your lip, forcing yourself to meet his eyes.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice low and smooth.

"Nothing," you said, your cheeks heating at the intensity of his gaze. "I'm just... admiring the view."

He grinned, his dimples flashing, and took a step toward you. "Is that so?"

You nodded, suddenly feeling a bit breathless.

"Well, allow me to return the favor," he murmured, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

His eyes roamed over you, his expression growing soft as his gaze lingered on your lips, your neck, your collarbone. He moved closer, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. You shivered as his thumb brushed along your lower lip, his eyes darkening.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice laced with awe. "Our baby is gonna be so lucky."

The heat in your core pulsed, and you leaned into his touch, his words making your chest tighten. "Chan..."

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss, his hands slipping to your hips. You melted into the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, gently coaxing them open. The taste of him was intoxicating, sweet and familiar, and you clung to him, his warmth seeping into your skin.

You broke the kiss with a gasp as his lips trailed along your jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin below your ear. His hands moved up your back, leaving goosebumps in their wake, before deftly undoing the buttons of your shirt. You fumbled with his hoodie, your fingers trembling as they skimmed over his toned chest. He chuckled, his breath tickling your skin, and helped you tug the fabric over his head.

You tossed it aside, letting out a soft whine as his lips resumed their exploration of your neck, his teeth gently scraping over your pulse point. His hands slid down your waist, finding the button of your jeans. You helped him, wriggling out of the restrictive fabric, leaving you clad only in your bra and underwear.

Chan stepped back, his eyes raking over you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "God, I love you," he murmured, his fingers teasing the lace hem of your panties.

You shivered, a thrill running through you at the intensity of his gaze.

"And I can't wait to have a baby with you," he continued, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

Your heart fluttered, and you closed the distance between you, pulling him in for a kiss.

He responded immediately, his hands sliding around your waist, drawing you closer. The warmth of his bare skin against yours made you tremble, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, losing yourself in the taste of his lips.

You felt his fingers deftly unhooking your bra, and you let out a soft sigh as the cool air hit your skin, the material falling to the floor. His hands moved up your sides, his thumbs grazing the undersides of your breasts.

"God, Chan," you gasped, his touch sending sparks through you.

"Yeah, love?" he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice.

You rolled your eyes, reaching down to hook your thumbs in the waistband of his sweatpants. "Don't play coy," you muttered, a thrill running through you as his breath caught.

"Okay, okay," he breathed, his eyes following as he watched you.

You pulled his sweatpants and boxers down his legs, revealing his impressive length. He stepped out of them, and you swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry.

"Like what you see?" he teased, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Always," you breathed, leaning in for a kiss.

He returned the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours. His hands moved down, gripping the backs of your thighs and lifting you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your arms looping around his neck. You felt his hard length press against your clothed core, and a soft whimper escaped you.

He carried you back to the bed, his lips never leaving yours. You landed on the mattress, and he moved over you, his knee nudging your legs apart. You obliged, spreading your thighs for him.

"So beautiful," he murmured, trailing his lips down your neck.

His fingers found the waistband of your panties, tugging them down and off your legs. He tossed them aside, his eyes raking over your bare form.

You felt a flash of heat, suddenly self-conscious under his intense gaze. But the way his pupils dilated and his tongue darted out to wet his lips was all the reassurance you needed.

"Chan," you whimpered, arching your back as his lips trailed along your hipbone.

"Shh," he whispered, his breath ghosting over your skin. "Let me take care of you."

You shivered, biting your lip to stifle a moan as his fingers dipped between your thighs, gently parting your folds.

"God, you're wet," he murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You groaned, rolling your hips against his hand. He chuckled, his thumb brushing over your swollen clit. You let out a gasp, your eyes squeezing shut.

"That's it," he whispered, his voice low and smooth. "Just relax."

His fingers circled your entrance, dipping in and out, the sensation driving you wild. You could feel his breath, hot against your thigh, and when his tongue dragged along the sensitive skin, your eyes snapped open.

"Chan," you breathed, gripping the sheets as his tongue found your clit, laving the swollen bud.

Your back arched off the bed, a moan escaping you. His free hand gripped your hip, keeping you pinned to the mattress as he worked you open, his tongue relentlessly swirling around your clit.

You writhed beneath him, heat building in your core, the sensations overwhelming. His fingers thrust in and out of you, curling and stretching. You could feel his hot breath on your skin, and when his lips closed around your clit, sucking gently, you let out a cry, your vision blurring.

"Please, Chan," you gasped, unable to take any more.

He hummed, the vibrations sending shocks through you. Then, mercifully, he released your clit, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. He then spit into his palm, and reached up to stroke his hard length, spreading the wetness.

"You ready, love?" he murmured, his voice husky and thick.

"God, yes," you gasped, arching your back and spreading your thighs, welcoming him into the cradle of your hips.

You watched, transfixed, as he positioned himself at your entrance. He hesitantly looked back at you, making sure you were one hundred percent okay with this.

"Please," you begged, your voice a breathless whimper.

He grinned, leaning forward and capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. As his tongue swept into your mouth, he eased himself inside you. You gasped, the stretch and fullness making your head spin. He slowly bottomed out, and you moaned, the pressure and heat intoxicating.

He groaned, burying his face in your neck. "Fuck, baby. You're so wet."

You whimpered, rocking your hips against his, the friction making you shiver. He groaned, his grip on your hips tightening.

"Chan," you managed, clinging to his broad shoulders, the sensation almost too much.

"Tell me what you want, baby," he murmured, his lips brushing over your pulse point.

"I want you," you breathed, a soft whimper escaping you. "I need you."

He hummed, slowly pulling back before thrusting deep inside you.

Your vision went white, a wave of pleasure crashing over you.

"You like that?" he asked, his voice laced with a possessive heat that made your core clench.

You let out a moan, nodding helplessly as he rocked his hips into you, his movements slow and steady. The drag of his cock inside you was intoxicating, and you gasped, clinging to him. The friction sent waves of heat through you, and you let out a breathless moan, arching your back to meet his thrusts. He grunted, his grip on your hips bruising.

"Please, Chan," you whimpered, the sensations becoming too much.

He let out a groan, his pace picking up. You writhed beneath him, the heat and friction overwhelming. He pounded into you, his hips slapping against yours. You gasped, your legs wrapping around his waist, drawing him closer.

"Fuck," he hissed, his voice a low growl. "You feel so good."

You cried out, the heat and pressure building in your core. He drove into you, his pace relentless, the sound of flesh on flesh filling the room. You whimpered, the friction and fullness bringing tears to your eyes.

"Oh God, Chan," you gasped, the tension mounting.

"Yeah?" he panted, his voice strained.

"I'm close," you whined, the words coming out broken.

He hummed, his fingers digging into your hips. He shifted, changing the angle, and the new sensation sent a shock through you. You cried out, your vision blurring as the pleasure hit its peak. Your body went taut, the tension snapping, and you fell apart, his name spilling from your lips.

Your vision went white, and the waves crashed over you, drowning out everything but the feel of his body against yours. His pace didn't falter, his hips rocking against yours as you came down, his movements drawing out your release.

"I'm not done with you yet," he warned, his grip tight on you.

You whimpered, the heat still pulsing through you, the sensation almost too much. He slowed his pace, his thrusts becoming languid and shallow.

"Chan," you breathed, barely louder than a whisper.

He groaned, leaning down and capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You kissed him back, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, stealing the breath from your lungs. You tangled your fingers in his hair, holding him close.

When he broke the kiss, his breathing was ragged. He groaned, burying his face in your neck. His hips snapped forward, the sudden motion making you gasp. You cried out, the new angle hitting you just right. You writhed beneath him, the sensations almost too much.

"God, baby, I'm so close," he gasped, his voice thick and husky.

You moaned, the sound turning into a desperate whine.

He thrust harder, deeper, the pressure and heat overwhelming. You writhed beneath him, the friction driving you crazy.

"Fill me up," you breathed, his name on the edge of your lips.

"God, baby, I'm gonna cum," he groaned, his hips snapping forward.

"Please," you pleaded, the pressure mounting.

"I'm gonna fill you up," he growled, his voice rough with need. "Gonna give you my baby."

You let out a cry, the tension snapping. He grunted, his movements growing erratic, and you clenched around him, his release triggering another orgasm.

"Fuck, yes, love," he hissed, his voice breaking.

His hips stuttered, and he thrust once more, burying himself to the hilt. A guttural groan escaped him, and he spilled inside you, his cock twitching as he emptied himself. You moaned, the warmth and pressure bringing tears to your eyes.

He collapsed against you, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. You clung to him, the feeling of his skin against yours grounding you, anchoring you. You lay there for a moment, neither of you moving, the silence broken only by the sound of your breaths.

After a moment, he leaned back, gently easing himself out of you. You whimpered, already missing the closeness, the fullness. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, a content smile on his face.

"How are you feeling, love?" he murmured, brushing the hair out of your face.

You sighed, your eyelids heavy. "Good. Really good," you mumbled, a dopey grin spreading across your face.

He chuckled, pressing another kiss to your temple. "Glad to hear it," he said, his voice soft and warm.

You snuggled into his chest, the steady rise and fall of his chest comforting. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close.

You yawned, your eyelids drooping.

"Get some sleep, love," he murmured, his lips brushing the top of your head.

"Mm," you hummed, your mind hazy and your limbs heavy.

The last thing you remember is the warmth of his touch, and the gentle sound of his voice.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Lee Know :

The aroma of garlic and herbs filled the cozy apartment as you leaned against the kitchen doorway, watching Minho at the stove. He stood in a loose t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair slightly messy from a lazy day at home. He looked effortlessly handsome, the golden glow of the evening sun streaming through the window highlighting his sharp features.

"Stop staring and make yourself useful," he quipped, glancing at you over his shoulder with a smirk. "The chopping board isn’t just for decoration, you know."

You grinned but stayed put, fidgeting with the hem of your sweater. Your heart raced as you debated whether to bring up the topic that had been on your mind for months. It wasn’t that you doubted his love or your relationship; Minho had always been thoughtful and attentive in his own dryly affectionate way. But this… this was a leap.

“I’ve been thinking about something,” you began hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Mm?” Minho hummed, focused on stirring the pasta sauce. "Thinking about helping me for once?"

"Minho," you said, this time with a little more weight, drawing his attention. He turned, wooden spoon in hand, eyebrows raised.

"What’s up?"

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as you glanced up at him, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. "I’ve been thinking about... having a baby," you said quietly, hoping the words would come out with less hesitation.

Minho paused for a moment, the spoon in his hand suspended in mid-air. His eyes blinked twice, as if he was processing the words. Then, he cocked his head, smirking with that mischievous gleam in his eyes. "A baby?" he repeated, his tone dripping with disbelief. "Are you sure? Because, you know, little versions of me would be a disaster... they’d probably be stealing my hair products and making my kitchen a mess by the time they can walk."

You let out a nervous laugh, trying to brush it off, but inside, your heart dropped. "I mean... just a thought," you stammered, taking a step back. "You know, for someday, when we’re ready."

Minho raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "We? Baby, you just mentioned the idea, and now you’re saying 'we'? You sure you’re ready to handle two Minhos? One’s already enough to deal with."

The teasing tone hit harder than you expected, and a wave of insecurity washed over you. Maybe you were too hasty to bring it up. Maybe he didn’t actually want that with you, maybe he wasn’t ready.

You forced a smile, trying to dismiss the feeling. "Yeah, never mind. Forget I said anything." You waved it off, turning back to the counter to grab a glass of water, trying to hide the tightening in your chest.

Minho didn’t seem to notice, his attention back on stirring the sauce. The rest of dinner went by in an awkward silence, with you trying to focus on the food and Minho humming mindlessly to the playlist in the background, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d ruined something with your suggestion.

That night, as you curled up under the covers, your mind was still restless. You kept replaying the conversation in your head, trying to convince yourself that maybe you’d misinterpreted Minho’s teasing. But the words still stung, and you couldn’t quite shake the doubt.

As you lay there, the room dim and quiet, you heard the sound of Minho shifting beside you. He rolled over to face you, his dark eyes studying you intently. You turned to face him, still unsure, the bed warm and cozy around you.

Minho shifted closer, his hand lightly brushing your arm as he studied you with an unreadable expression. The tension between you both was palpable, the weight of the earlier conversation lingering in the air. For a few seconds, there was only the soft rustling of sheets, the dim glow of the bedside lamp casting shadows over his sharp features.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he asked quietly, his voice suddenly softer, almost intimate. You looked at him, his gaze intense, a shift in the way he was looking at you now. “The baby thing... it’s been on my mind, too.”

You swallowed, unsure how to respond. Was he just trying to lighten the mood again? Or had the thought really stayed with him? “Minho…” you began, but before you could say anything more, his fingers brushed against your cheek, gently guiding your face toward his.

“You know,” he murmured, lips hovering just inches from yours, “the idea of a mini me running around... messing up my space, stealing my things... I wasn’t exactly thrilled about it at first.” His breath was warm against your skin, sending a flutter through your chest. “But now?” He paused, eyes darkening with a mixture of desire and something else you couldn’t quite place. “I can’t stop thinking about it. About you.”

Your heart raced, the uncertainty from before now mixed with a rush of anticipation. Minho was never one to easily give in to big ideas like this, so hearing him admit it was unexpected. His hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, his thumb grazing over the sensitive skin, pulling you just a little closer.

“So... what are you saying?” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

Minho’s lips curled into that teasing grin you knew so well. “I’m saying, if you want a little bundle of chaos in nine months... you better make your mind up now.” His voice was low, seductive, and it sent a spark of heat straight to your core. “If we’re doing this... we’re doing it right. No half-measures.” His fingers traced the curve of your jaw, tilting your head slightly as his gaze dropped to your lips. “No turning back once we start.”

Before you could respond, Minho’s lips were on yours, kissing you with a sudden, hungry intensity that sent your pulse spiking. His hands roamed to your sides, pulling you closer until you could feel the heat radiating off his body. You let out a soft gasp as his hands slid beneath your shirt, fingertips brushing over your skin with a mixture of tenderness and urgency.

“You sure you want this?” he murmured against your lips, his breath heavy, fingers already working their way up to your chest. “Because I can’t think about anything else now. Just... us.”

You couldn’t form words in response, your body reacting instinctively as you pulled him closer, kissing him back with the same intensity. It wasn’t just about the baby anymore, it was about everything you shared, every part of this relationship that felt so right. His hands were everywhere now, leaving no room for doubt.

Minho’s lips trailed down your neck, his voice muffled against your skin as he said, “You want a baby in nine months? We start tonight... and we do it properly.” He didn’t give you a chance to respond, his lips finding yours again in a searing kiss that only deepened, his hands working their way down to the waistband of your pants. You gasped, a shiver running through your body as he kissed his way down your neck, pausing to bite softly at the tender spot near your collarbone.

Your body ached for him, and you couldn’t hold back anymore. “Then let’s do it,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire. “Let’s go all in.”

Minho responded without a word, his lips finding yours once more as his hands roamed your body, leaving a trail of sparks in their wake. You were lost in a haze of desire and passion, your thoughts consumed by the idea of him, of the future. It was reckless and risky, but for the first time, you didn’t care about anything but him.

Minho’s hands moved with a sense of urgency, as if he couldn’t wait another second to feel all of you. His lips, burning with desire, trailed down your body, each kiss more fervent than the last. Every touch felt electrifying, like sparks igniting under his fingertips. The heat of his body against yours made everything else fade away, leaving only the intensity of the moment.

You arched into him, your breath shallow and erratic as he explored you, the anticipation building with every passing second. His lips returned to yours, deep and demanding, his tongue sweeping against yours in a way that made your heart race even faster. You could feel his muscles tense beneath you, his control slipping away as his need for you grew stronger.

Minho’s hand slid to the waistband of your pants, pausing for a split second before he pulled them off, his gaze fixed on you, dark and smoldering. “You’re sure, right?” he asked again, his voice hushed but filled with raw, unfiltered desire.

You could barely nod, the heat of his touch, the weight of his gaze making it hard to focus on anything but him. “I’m sure,” you breathed out, pulling him closer, your hands working to rid him of his clothes. You didn’t need to think anymore, there was only now, only the way he made you feel.

Minho groaned as he undid the rest of his clothes, his body pressing into yours with a hunger that mirrored your own. You could feel the hard line of him against your thigh, his breath ragged as he leaned over you, his lips brushing against your ear.

"I don't think I can wait," he said, his fingers tangling in your hair, his breath hot against your skin. "I want you, all of you. I can't stop thinking about it."

His words were a heady mix of desperation and desire, and you wanted nothing more than to give in to his every whim. Your hands moved to his hips, pulling him closer, aching to feel him fill the emptiness inside you. You were more than ready, the longing to have him buried deep within you was almost too much to bear.

"Then take me," you whispered, your voice laced with equal amounts of lust and need. "Make me yours."

Minho didn't waste another moment, his fingers gripping your thighs and pushing them apart, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. He lowered his head, his lips skimming over your skin, kissing a trail of fire across your stomach, then lower.

He teased your entrance, his tongue swiping over you, tasting and exploring, before dipping inside, sending a shiver through your entire body. Your back arched involuntarily, and you gripped his hair, pulling him closer, begging for more.

His hand found yours, and his fingers laced through yours, gripping tightly as he worked his way down, his mouth devouring every inch of your heated flesh. You could feel the waves of pleasure building, but it wasn't enough, not yet.

"Please, Minho," you gasped, your hips bucking as he lapped at your swollen clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your core. "Please, I need you."

Minho lifted his head, his eyes dark with lust. "What do you need, baby?"

You could barely find the words, the feeling of him against you, his hard length throbbing against your thigh, was driving you wild. "You. You in me," you said, the ache between your legs becoming unbearable.

He chuckled, his lips brushing against your ear as he pressed his body flush against yours. "You're gonna have to be a little more specific," he murmured, his hand sliding up your thigh, fingertips teasing the sensitive skin.

You shivered, the ache intensifying as his fingers dipped inside you, then withdrew, the slow, tantalizing movements driving you mad. "Minho," you begged, annoyed, unable to articulate what you wanted.

"Tell me," he said, his breath hot against your neck, his body trembling with the effort to hold himself back. "Tell me what you need."

"I need your cock," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You could feel him smile against your skin, the warmth of his lips spreading across your neck as he kissed his way down to your chest.

"I need all of you," he replied, his hand traveling down your stomach and settling between your thighs. "I need to be buried inside you, deep and hard, until you can't take it anymore."

"Please, Minho," you said, arching into him, the heat pooling between your legs, his fingers teasing your slick folds. "Please."

Minho groaned, his hips rolling into yours, the hard line of his cock rubbing against you, his restraint slipping. He kissed your lips, his tongue delving into your mouth, exploring and claiming.

He broke away, his breathing ragged, his fingers sliding up and down your wetness, his touch setting every nerve ending ablaze. You reached down, wrapping your hand around his length, stroking him slowly, your eyes locked on his.

"Do it," you breathed, desperate for him, aching for the connection. "Take me."

Minho groaned, his hands moving to your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pushed you back, lifting your legs to rest over his shoulders. You could see the tension in his muscles, the strain of holding back, but he couldn't wait any longer.

With a shuddering breath, he slid into you, the feeling of him filling you sending a wave of pleasure crashing through your body. You moaned, clinging to him, your nails raking over his skin, your hips bucking, craving more.

He began to move, his pace slow and steady, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he fought to control himself. You could feel his muscles tensing, the power and strength behind his every thrust sending a shiver of anticipation through your body.

You gasped, the feeling of him stretching you, the sensation of him moving inside you, was almost too much to handle. He reached between you, his fingers brushing against your clit, sending a shockwave of pleasure through you.

"More," you moaned, unable to get enough, the pressure building deep within you.

He obliged, his hips snapping against yours, his pace quickening as he drove deeper and harder into you. You cried out, your hands gripping his shoulders, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. He growled, his fingers working your clit, his other hand digging into the sheets beside your head.

The pleasure was overwhelming, but every time you began to unravel, he slowed, dragging out the sensations, taking his time. You were lost in a haze of pleasure and desire, every sensation amplified, each touch, each thrust, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Minho leaned over, his lips finding yours, his tongue swirling around yours in a way that sent shivers down your spine. You moaned into his mouth, the heat of him, the feel of him, was driving you wild. You could feel the tension building inside him, the pressure coiling in his body as his thrusts became more erratic, more desperate.

"Please," you breathed, desperate for release. "Please just let me cum."

"Not yet," he groaned, his breath ragged, his hips snapping against yours, the feeling of him sliding in and out of you was almost enough to make you fall apart. "Not until I say so."

He kept moving, the pressure building inside you, the need for release so intense, so overwhelming. You moaned, biting down on your lip, trying to hold back, but it was no use.

"Fuck," he cursed, his hips bucking, the pleasure threatening to spill over.

"Minho, please," you pleaded, your body trembling, the edge of the precipice just out of reach.

"Cum," he growled, his lips brushing against your ear, his fingers still working your clit, "now."

You cried out, the intensity of your release tearing through you, the world around you spinning as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. Minho growled, his grip tightening on you, his hips bucking wildly as he came, spilling into you, the feeling indescribable.

The world was hazy, the intensity of the pleasure still coursing through your veins, his arms wrapped tightly around you. You clung to him, the sweat-soaked sheets tangled around your bodies, his lips trailing kisses along your skin, his hands stroking your hair.

You were still reeling from the high, the room slowly coming into focus. Your breath was shaky, the aftershocks of your release rippling through your body.

Minho shifted, his hand brushing lightly over your cheek. "I love you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

"I love you too," you said, pulling him closer, his heart beating steadily beneath your ear.

The reality of what had happened settled over you, the knowledge that this could change everything. But as you lay there, curled up in his arms, you knew that no matter what happened next, this was worth it.

"Win the race," He said, pressing against your lower stomach as if he were talking to it, instantly making you laugh, even with the little energy in your body. "Because I can't wait to meet you."

And the idea, the prospect of it all, suddenly felt a lot less scary.

Minho rolled over, pulling you close, the warmth of his body seeping into yours, the sound of his heartbeat filling the quiet room. There was still so much ahead, the road was still uncertain, but in this moment, all that mattered was him.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Changbin :

It was the kind of lazy day you didn’t get often: just the two of you sprawled out in the bed, wrapped up in each other. The sun filtered through the blinds, casting warm rays on the blankets as the soft hum of the city outside barely reached your ears. Changbin’s strong arms held you close, one hand gently brushing the back of your head as his chin rested atop it. His body heat was comforting, and for a moment, you could forget about everything outside of the little bubble the two of you created.

You’d spent the entire morning in each other's company, moving between soft kisses, playful banter, and occasional teasing as the hours slipped away. Changbin was content, in his element, basking in the warmth of your presence, literally. You could tell by how tightly he held you, never wanting to let go, always wanting to be near you. You both always seemed to have the best days together when you didn’t have anywhere to be.

But then, as if the universe decided it was time for something to shift in the peacefulness of the moment, you made a suggestion that threw everything into an entirely different, far more intimate direction.

You tilted your head, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes, a playful glint in yours. “Binnie,” you murmured, your voice dropping to a more serious tone.

He hummed in response, his fingers absently tracing patterns on your arm. “Hm?”

"I think it’s time we make a baby."

There was a beat of silence before Changbin’s eyes widened, his arms momentarily stiffening around you, as though trying to process your words. His brow furrowed, mouth slightly agape, the playful smirk that usually never left his face faltering for just a moment.

“W-What?” His voice cracked as he pulled back a little to look at you. He blinked a few times, clearly stunned. “You’re... serious?”

You nodded, a little too pleased with the reaction, but then you noticed how flustered he looked, his dark eyes wide and the hint of a blush creeping up his neck. It was cute. So cute that you couldn’t hold back a small chuckle.

Changbin quickly recovered, a mischievous glint creeping back into his eyes as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m always your baby,” he said with a teasing smirk, his voice playful again.

You raised an eyebrow, your smile widening as you saw through his attempt to make light of the situation. “You sure about that? Because I’m ready for another baby now, Binnie.”

The teasing glimmer in his eyes faltered once more as his gaze dropped to your lips, and he could see that you weren’t joking. There was an undeniable sincerity in your expression, and it made his heart skip a beat. The playful energy between you shifted, his face slowly turning red as the words finally sank in.

“You’re serious?” he whispered, his breath catching in his throat.

You nodded again, leaning in to press your lips to his, but this time, it wasn’t just a kiss. It was deep, slow, and filled with something that had both of your hearts racing in unison.

When you pulled away, Changbin’s expression had shifted entirely. His chest was rising and falling faster than before, and you could feel his muscles tense under your fingertips. But what really caught your attention was the bulge pressing against your leg.

“Binnie…” you teased, your voice dripping with amusement. “I didn’t think you’d be that into the idea.”

A small whine escaped Changbin, his arms wrapping tighter around you as his lips sought yours once more. The kiss was a little sloppy, but it only served to make you laugh into it. You could feel the smile on his lips as he kissed you harder, his hands already moving along your sides and down to your thighs.

Changbin was always affectionate with you, even if he wasn't the best at showing it in public. It was always there in the way he looked at you, or the subtle brush of his fingertips against yours when no one was looking, or the sweet compliments he whispered to you when the two of you were alone. But the way his hands slid under your shirt, and the urgency in his kiss told you exactly how he felt in that moment.

You let him lift you off his lap, settling your hips down over his so that he was nestled between your legs. He groaned against your lips, and you felt his growing length straining against his pants.

When he broke the kiss, it was only to help you tug off his shirt. As soon as the garment was tossed aside, he grabbed the hem of yours and pulled it over your head, tossing it behind him, not caring where it landed. Then his lips were back on yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth, eliciting a soft moan from you.

You didn't notice his fingers fumbling with the button on your jeans until he pulled away from the kiss to help you out of them, and a few moments later, you were both naked and panting. Changbin's lips were already trailing across your collarbone, his teeth nipping and sucking at your skin, making sure to leave a mark.

Your hands moved down his back, your fingers digging into his flesh as you arched up to meet his lips, his chest pressed firmly against yours.

"Changbin," you whined, his name a breathless sigh on your lips. "Touch me."

He pulled back to look at you, his expression one of pure adoration. He took in your flushed cheeks, the way your eyes were hooded and glassy, your lips parted in anticipation.

"Anything for you," he said softly.

Your body shuddered as his hand traveled up the inside of your thigh, his fingers finding their way between your folds, circling your sensitive bud. You let out a low moan, bucking against him.

"I can't wait any longer," you panted.

"Neither can I."

Without warning, he flipped you onto your back, hovering above you. His hand came up to cradle the side of your face as he lowered his lips to yours, kissing you with an intensity that made your toes curl.

When he finally broke the kiss, he reached down to grab a condom from the drawer of his nightstand, sort of like muscle memory at this point. But before he could get a chance to open the wrapper, you stopped him, placing your hand on his.

"Binnie," you breathed. "You don't need that."

His eyes met yours, the question written all over his face. You just nodded, and a wide grin spread across his face.

"Whatever you want," he whispered, and he threw the package onto the floor.

His fingers returned to their earlier spot between your legs, stroking up and down the slick heat before slipping a finger inside you, followed by another. Your breath hitched, a soft whimper escaping your throat, and you rocked against his hand.

After a few moments, Changbin pulled his fingers out, replacing them with the tip of his cock. He slowly eased into you, and a breathless gasp left your lips as he filled you completely.

He paused for a second, his forehead resting against yours, and then he began to move, the feeling of his hips rolling against yours overwhelming you. The pace was slow and sensual, and the only sound in the room was your heavy breathing and the quiet creaking of the mattress as he moved above you.

As you stared into his eyes, the emotions swirling within them were too intense, too intimate, so you closed your own, letting yourself drown in the feeling of his body against yours, his cock filling you up with each thrust.

Your hands found their way to his back, clutching at his shoulder blades, and his lips brushed against your neck. Your bodies were so close that you could feel his heartbeat thundering against your chest.

It was too much.

You wanted to feel him deeper, to pull him closer. So you hooked your legs around his waist, pulling him in until you were almost completely flush with one another. You could feel every inch of him, and it made your stomach flutter.

The new angle allowed him to go deeper, his cock hitting a spot that made your breath hitch. Your nails dug into his back, and you buried your face in his neck. "Binnie," you mumbled, and his fingers laced through yours, pinning your hands to the bed above your head.

He was everywhere. His skin was hot, his touch burning. Every part of you was connected, and the way he moved was sending you over the edge. Your head was spinning. Pleasure pulsed through your body, building higher and higher. Changbin's lips had moved down to your neck, his tongue leaving a trail of wet kisses along your skin.

When he bit down on the base of your throat, you arched into him, letting out a loud moan. "Please... Please," you pleaded, and he groaned in response.

He continued his pace, the feeling of your body against his becoming more and more overwhelming. You were close, you could tell. You were just waiting for the moment that you fell, waiting for him to push you over the edge.

Just as you were about to reach your peak, he stopped moving altogether, pulling out of you completely. Your eyes shot open and you looked up at him, a frustrated whine slipping out. "Binnie, why..."

He brought his fingers back to your clit, teasing and circling it, and your eyes fluttered shut. His lips were against your ear, his hot breath fanning your neck. "You look so beautiful like this," he whispered. "All hot and needy for me."

Your breathing grew ragged as he worked at your clit, sending sparks through your body, and your legs tightened around his waist. "Binnie, I... Please..." you panted. "Please don't stop..."

The moment his cock re-entered you, a wave of pleasure washed over you, making your back arch against him. Your legs squeezed tighter around him, keeping him buried deep inside of you as he began moving again, thrusting harder and faster this time. Your orgasm was coming.

"Let go for me," he commanded.

With a loud cry, you let go, and your orgasm tore through your body. You couldn't stop yourself from moaning his name over and over as he fucked you through it, prolonging the bliss. The feeling was indescribable, and for a brief moment, everything in the world felt right.

It was only a few seconds later that you felt Changbin shudder as his release shot into you, filling you with hot warmth. Your name fell from his lips, breathy and desperate.

His hips slowed to a stop, and he pulled out, rolling over to lay next to you, a smile tugging at his lips. You didn’t move, just letting your head fall onto his shoulder and your arm wrap around his torso. Your legs were shaking and your heart was racing, but you couldn’t stop the content smile on your face.

You turned your head slightly, pressing your lips against his shoulder. It felt like an eternity since the last time you'd both been intimate with one another like that, and you almost wanted to laugh at how natural it felt. But Changbin shifted, turning onto his side to face you, his fingers brushing across your cheek.

"You okay?" he murmured.

Your heart swelled as his eyes searched yours, a concerned expression on his face, his brows slightly furrowed. He was worried about you. He always was. And it was in moments like these that you really saw it, felt it. The love in his touch.

You smiled, nodding slowly, letting yourself get lost in the deep, dark brown pools of his eyes. You felt warm all over, a content, almost sleepy feeling overtaking you. "I love you," you said softly, and he smiled.

"I love you too."

With that, you pressed your lips to his in a brief but loving kiss. When you broke apart, you couldn't help the giddy smile that spread across your face. You let your eyes wander over him, and you felt yourself melt into his arms. You'd never felt happier than in his embrace.

He was warm and soft, his breathing slow and steady, his skin hot against yours. Your fingertips lightly brushed over his collarbones and across his shoulder, making goosebumps break out across his skin.

After a few more moments of basking in each other's presence, you shifted your position, scooting closer so that you were able to curl yourself into him, your head resting against his chest.

"Okay, I'm ready for round two now,"

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Hyunjin :

The soft hum of Hyunjin’s paintbrush against the canvas was almost soothing, the steady strokes of his arm adding layer after layer to the masterpiece in front of him. His studio smelled like oil paints and creativity, with light spilling in through the tall windows, casting a golden hue on everything. He was lost in his work, just the way he liked it, completely immersed.

But you missed him. And right now, with the pull of your body, the warmth of your desire, you couldn’t help but want him close.

With a quiet smile, you slipped out of your bedroom, putting on nothing but his oversized shirt, the fabric reaching mid-thigh. You padded down the hallway, your steps slower than usual as the heat between your legs reminded you of the feeling growing in your core. It wasn’t something that could be ignored, and the fact that Hyunjin was so close made the need even more intense.

You reached his studio, and as you poked your head around the doorframe, your heart skipped when you saw him still focused on his painting. A smirk tugged at your lips. You waddled in, walking with purpose as you made your way toward him. He glanced up, surprised by the soft sound of your footsteps before a soft chuckle escaped him.

"Hey, darling," he greeted, his voice warm and inviting. His smile was like the first rays of the sun breaking through the clouds, and you could feel your pulse quicken in response. He leaned back in his chair, arms outstretched, expecting you to crawl into his lap.

You didn’t waste any time. Before he could say another word, you were on him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your lips to his, demanding the attention you craved. His body stiffened for a moment, but then he melted into you, pulling you closer as your kisses deepened. You could feel his surprise mixed with fondness in the way his hands gripped your waist.

“Love, what’s up?” he murmured between kisses, a playful glint in his eyes. “You miss me that much?”

You pulled away slightly, keeping your hands on his shoulders as you looked him over, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. You didn’t even try to hold back, letting the feeling of desire overwhelm you. “I want to make a baby right now.”

Hyunjin blinked, processing your words. His lips curled into that teasing, sexy smile of his, and you could tell he was trying not to laugh at your sudden forwardness. “Ah, are you tired of me painting on you? Would you rather I finish in you instead?” His voice was smooth, every word dripping with his signature charm.

You froze, face feeling hot. "Hyunjin!" you gasped, swatting at his chest playfully, too embarrassed to even look him in the eye. "I'm serious!"

The mischievous glint in his eyes softened, and his arms tightened around you, bringing you flush against his chest. "I know you are," he said, his tone now filled with affection and sincerity. "And I love the idea." His voice lowered, almost a whisper as he leaned in close, brushing his lips across your ear. “Can we make a baby now?”

Your heart raced, and the sheer intensity in his voice made you forget about your nervousness. The room felt smaller, more intimate as he pulled back to look at you, a mix of excitement and love in his gaze.

“You really want to?” you whispered, looking up at him through your lashes, your body practically humming with desire.

“Well, I need to go back to my painting, love,” he murmured, voice thick with affection but also a hint of teasing. “I’ll be done soon, and then we can—”

“No.” You interrupted him playfully, your lips landing on his jaw, trailing kisses along the path of his neck as you pressed your body fully against his. “I don’t want to wait, Hyunjin. I want you, right now.”

His breath hitched, and you could feel the shiver run through his body. His grip on you tightened, and you smiled against his neck, knowing the effect you had on him.

You felt his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you in for a heated kiss. His hands then slipped beneath the shirt that you put on, his fingertips finding their way to your half-hardened nipples. His lips found your jaw, placing featherlight kisses along your skin, before trailing lower, stopping at the base of your neck.

He let out a soft hum of approval, and you knew exactly what he was thinking. He loved marking you, making sure that everyone knew that you belonged to him. You leaned into him, wanting him to have better access to the sensitive skin.

As he started sucking on your skin, you felt yourself relax, the warmth of his touch calming the desire burning within you. His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve and dip. The sound of his lips against your skin was enough to send shivers down your spine, and the feeling of his mouth on your skin was electrifying.

His fingers dipped lower, reaching between your legs. You spread your thighs, allowing him easier access. As his fingertips brushed against your folds, you could feel how wet you already were.

His lips parted, and his breath caught. "So wet, love," he breathed, his voice thick with awe and wonder.

You whined, pressing your body closer to his, needing him inside you. "Hyunjin," you moaned softly, your fingers digging into his biceps, "fuck me, please."

His arms wrapped around you, lifting you up and carrying you over to his desk, where he placed you down, your bare back hitting the cold surface. Your head spun at the sudden change of position, the room shifting from vertical to horizontal in an instant.

But Hyunjin was already tugging down his sweats and boxers, letting them fall around his ankles before kicking them off. His cock sprung free, standing proud and tall, and you bit your lip, admiring the sight. His tip glistened with precum, and you could see his erection twitch.

"I'm going to fuck a baby into you," he promised, and the words alone sent a fresh wave of arousal through your body. "So take every drop, okay?"

You nodded, spreading your legs, eager and waiting for him to enter you. Your whole body was buzzing, the anticipation making you tremble with excitement.

"Not yet, if I don't prepare you," he said, and before you could react, he pushed two fingers inside your core, "it'll hurt."

A small gasp escaped you, the intrusion taking you by surprise, but it was a good kind of surprise, one that left you feeling lightheaded and desperate for more. Your eyes fluttered shut as he moved his fingers in and out, stretching you.

He added a few more fingers before pulling out, the slick coating his digits. "There," he purred, pumping his own length to lubricate it, "ready?"

You didn't need to answer, your legs opening wide as an invitation. Hyunjin leaned forward, capturing your lips in a kiss. It was tender and slow, but filled with desire, and you could feel the intensity of his love for you.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging lightly at the soft locks. The sensation caused him to moan softly, and he broke the kiss, panting slightly. His dark eyes were filled with lust and desire, and you couldn't help but let out a small whimper, eager for more.

He positioned his length against your entrance, the tip just barely dipping inside. He held it there for a moment, his other hand caressing your thigh. Biting down on your bottom lip, too excited to form words. You couldn't take it anymore, and with a slight wiggle of your hips, you urged him inside.

"Patience, love," he murmured, and you could hear the teasing in his tone.

He pushed inside, his cock stretching your walls, and you couldn't stop the moan that fell from your lips. He buried himself deep within you, his length filling you up. He began to move, slowly at first, savoring the feeling of being inside you.

His hands moved to cup your breasts, gently squeezing and kneading the mounds, teasing the peaks. You arched into him, craving more.

"You're so perfect," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "You're so tight around me."

You could only whimper, words escaping you. His praises were music to your ears, and the feel of his cock moving inside you made your head spin. His slow pace itching your walls, the friction sending waves of pleasure throughout your body.

His lips were on yours again, kissing you hungrily, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You tasted him, his scent intoxicating, the smell of oil paints and his natural musk making your head spin.

He broke the kiss, panting softly, his lips moving to your neck. He trailed kisses along the curve of your shoulder, and you could feel his teeth nipping at your skin. You were losing yourself in the feeling, the sensations overwhelming you.

His fingers pinched and pulled at your nipples, and you were gasping and moaning, completely at his mercy.

"You're taking me so well, baby," he cooed, his words sending a thrill through your body.

He quickened the pace for you, and you were clinging to him, your nails digging into his skin. He was relentless, his thrusts not incredibly fast, but powerful, his hands moving to grip your waist, pulling you close as he fucked into you.

Your mind was clouded, the only thing registering was the way his cock stretched and filled you, his fingers playing with your breasts, his lips leaving a trail of kisses across your neck and shoulders.

"I love you," you gasped, and he moaned into your skin in response, his teeth sinking into the curve of your neck.

He was lost in your warmth, in the feeling of being inside you, and the room was filled with the sounds of skin against skin, your soft moans and whimpers, his breathy pants and low groans. It was almost too much for you, the sensations threatening to push you over the edge, the coil within your abdomen winding tighter and tighter.

"You're going to cum for me, baby," Hyunjin murmured, his voice thick with need and desire. "And you're going to cum for our baby, too."

That was all you needed to hear to send you spiraling into a mind-blowing orgasm, your walls clamping around his cock, and your fingers digging into his shoulders. You moaned loudly, unable to control yourself as your climax crashed into you like a tidal wave. Hyunjin's pace stuttered, and you felt his release inside you, filling you to the brim.

"I love you so much," Hyunjin breathed, pulling you into a deep kiss.

As he pulled away, your body suddenly felt empty, but Hyunjin suddenly slipped two fingers inside your pussy, the wetness and slick of both your arousal and cum allowing him to glide them in. "Full of me, love," he hummed in appreciation as you tightened your grip around him, whimpering, still sensitive.

"I know baby, it's so much, but I told to you take every single drop." he kissed your forehead gently and slipped in a third finger, stretching you slightly. "You can do that for me right?"

Your body shuddered in his grasp, and you felt his other hand gently rub your tummy. "You're gonna be so big," Hyunjin purred, kissing your cheeks, "and I can't wait to see our baby inside you, and everyone's going to be able to see the work of art I created inside of you. Everyone will know."

"Hyunjin..." you panted, still catching your breath after your orgasm, and the image he created in your mind sent your mind spinning once more.

"I think this will be my best piece yet, hm?"

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Han Jisung :

The warm glow of the living room lamp bounced softly off the walls as you sprawled lazily across the couch, your head resting comfortably in Jisung's lap. His focus was pinned to the TV screen in front of you, fingers flying over the controller in a frenzied attempt to beat whatever game had stolen his attention. The faint sound of rapid button mashing mixed with his occasional muttering under his breath, a mix of self-encouragement and exaggerated complaints about the game mechanics.

Jisung in his element was a sight to behold. His lips parted slightly in concentration, his sharp jawline flexing whenever he gritted his teeth at a missed combo. The sleeveless shirt he wore hung loose around his lean frame, leaving his toned arms on full display. You couldn't help but let your eyes wander, imagining how your child could inherit those features: the cheeky grin, the soft yet angular face, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled too hard.

The thought planted itself so firmly in your head that the words tumbled out before you could second-guess yourself.

“Jisung,” you said casually, letting your hand drift lazily over his thigh, “you ever think about making a baby with me?”

For a moment, his reaction was nonexistent. He grunted in response, still laser-focused on the game.

“Mm-hmm, yeah, babe. Just hold on, I’m about to beat this guy--”

And then it hit him.

His hands froze on the controller, his character on the screen taking a hit as he snapped his head down to look at you, eyes wide as saucers. “Wait, what?!”

You stifled a laugh at his reaction, the tips of his ears already beginning to turn red. He stared at you, completely speechless, mouth agape as if waiting for you to break into laughter and tell him it was just a joke. When you didn’t, he sputtered helplessly, trying to gather his thoughts.

“Han Jisung,” you said again, this time with a mischievous lilt to your voice, “how would you feel about putting a baby in me sometime soon?”

“Yah, stop it!” he sputtered, his voice jumping an octave as he frantically mashed at the controller, trying to pause the game but failing miserably in his flustered state. “You can’t just say stuff like that when I’m in the middle of—of…”

“…this!” he finally blurted, his voice cracking slightly as he slammed the pause button with a frustrated jab. The screen froze mid-action, his character caught in a losing battle, but Jisung didn’t seem to care. He stared down at you, his lips parted in disbelief, his cheeks now a fiery shade of red.

“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, setting the controller down on the cushion beside him. His hands flew to his face, covering his flushed expression as if it would shield him from your teasing. “Who even says that so casually?”

You grinned, clearly enjoying his reaction far too much. “What?” you asked innocently, though the mischievous glint in your eyes gave you away. “It’s not like I’m asking for a baby right now. I’m just saying… you’d make a cute dad.”

He peeked at you through his fingers, his brows furrowing. “This is not normal couch talk!” he whined, his voice higher than usual as his brain scrambled to keep up. “You can’t just spring stuff like that on me. I’m trying to focus, and then you go and--”

“Distract you?” you finished for him, your tone light and playful. Sliding your hand up under his shirt, you let your fingers graze over the smooth, warm skin of his stomach. His muscles twitched under your touch, and his entire body stiffened as if you’d just short-circuited him.

“D-Doing- that!” he stammered, his voice cracking again. He grabbed your wrist gently but didn’t pull your hand away, his ears burning redder by the second. “You’re being distracting right now, and you know that.”

“Am I?” you teased, tilting your head to look up at him with a sweet smile that only made him more flustered. “You’re just so cute, Ji. Can you blame me for thinking about it? About us? About what it’d be like to have a little Han Jisung running around?”

“Aghhh!” he groaned dramatically, throwing his head back against the couch. “Stop! You’re gonna make me combust or something. I’m already sweaty from this game, and now you’re- ugh, I can’t with you!”

You giggled, loving every second of his over-the-top reaction. “Okay, okay,” you said, patting his chest soothingly. “Breathe, Han. It’s just a thought. A cute little thought. You don’t have to freak out about it that much.”

“I’m not freaking out!” he argued, though his voice cracked once more, betraying him. His wide eyes darted down to yours, his expression softening despite his embarrassment. “I mean… I have thought about it. A little. Not, like, seriously, but…”

“But?” you pressed gently, your teasing tone giving way to genuine curiosity.

He sighed, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck nervously. “But… the idea isn’t terrible,” he admitted quietly, his gaze dropping to the hand you still had resting on his stomach. “I just… I wanna be good enough, you know? So that I’d… that I wouldn’t mess it up.”

Your heart swelled at his vulnerability, the way he couldn’t help but let his anxieties surface even in a moment like this. You shifted to sit up, cupping his cheek and guiding his gaze back to yours. “Jisung,” you said softly, your thumb brushing over his skin. “You’re already good enough. And if you ever doubt it, just look at how much I love you. That should tell you everything.”

His eyes widened for a moment before they softened, his lips curling into a shy smile. “You’re too much,” he mumbled, leaning into your touch. “Seriously. How am I supposed to focus on anything when you’re like this?”

“Maybe you’re not supposed to,” you teased, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Maybe this is my way of saying… you’ve already won the game, Jisung. You’ve already got me.”

The clock ticked closer to midnight, the soft hum of the heater filling the cozy silence of the living room. You’d already changed into your favorite oversized t-shirt for bed, hair loosely tied back as you padded barefoot across the carpet. Jisung was still glued to the TV, his earlier embarrassment mostly forgotten as he focused intently on beating the level that had eluded him earlier.

You stopped just short of him, arms crossed, tilting your head with an amused smirk. “Still at it, huh?”

He glanced at you briefly, flashing an apologetic grin. “Almost there, baby. Just need a few more minutes. I’m so close.”

Rolling your eyes, you moved closer, draping yourself over the back of the couch so you could peek at the screen. “You’ve been saying that for the past twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, but this time I mean it,” he defended, his tongue poking out slightly in concentration.

With a sigh, you leaned down further, your hair brushing against his cheek. “Ji,” you murmured, your voice soft and sultry, “don’t you think it’s time for bed?”

He froze for a fraction of a second before shaking his head, trying to stay focused. “Just a little longer, promise. I’m almost- no, no, no, almost there!”

You bit back a smile, watching the way his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pursed in frustration. He was adorable when he was like this, but you weren’t about to let him get away with ignoring you.

Sliding around the couch, you plopped yourself down beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. “You know,” you began, tracing small circles on his arm with your finger, “the game isn’t going anywhere. It’ll still be here tomorrow. But me…” You trailed off, your voice dropping suggestively.

He stiffened slightly, his grip on the controller tightening. “Baby,” he muttered, a warning in his tone. “Don’t do that right now.”

“Do what?” you asked innocently, shifting closer.

“This,” he said, gesturing vaguely at you with one hand while his character took a hit on screen.

You straddled his lap without warning, the controller slipping from his hands as his eyes shot up to meet yours. “Oops,” you said with a cheeky grin.

“Y/N,” he groaned, his voice laced with both exasperation and something warmer. His hands hovered awkwardly by your sides, unsure whether to push you away or pull you closer.

You looped your arms around his neck, your movements deliberate as you shifted in his lap. His breath hitched, and you felt the slight twitch of his muscles beneath you. “Come to bed with me, Jisung,” you whispered, leaning in so your lips brushed against his ear. “Unless… you’d rather stay here and let me go to sleep all by myself.”

“Babe,” he choked out, his hands finally settling on your waist, holding you in place as if to stop you from moving any further. His ears were blazing red again, his gaze darting anywhere but your face.

“Or,” you continued, tilting his chin up so he had no choice but to look at you, “we could practice making a baby tonight.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Jisung looked like his brain had completely short-circuited. His mouth opened and closed a few times, no sound coming out except a faint squeak.

“Wait, you’re- are you serious?” he finally managed, his voice cracking as his grip on your waist tightened slightly.

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his jawline. “What do you think?”

Jisung swallowed hard, his wide eyes locking onto yours. The game was long forgotten, and the controller was discarded on the couch beside him. His hands slid up your sides, tentative but firm, as if testing to see if you were really there.

You pressed a soft kiss to his neck, his breath hitching slightly. Your hands were already wandering, sliding over the smooth skin of his arms and tracing along his collarbones. He shivered, his hands gripping your waist and pulling you closer.

"Mm, so I'm guessing this means you like that idea?" you teased, your lips trailing along his jaw.

"Baby," he whined, his voice already husky and breathless. "I... I'm not sure what I'm doing, but I- I want..."

"What do you want, Ji?"

"You," he breathed, his eyes fluttering shut. "Always."

"Then take me," you whispered, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He captured your lips with his, the kiss searing hot and desperate. Your hands slipped into his hair, tugging him closer as his tongue slipped into your mouth, swallowing your moan. He tasted like the peppermint candies he'd been sucking on earlier, sweet and crisp, and the way his mouth moved against yours made your head spin.

He pulled away after a moment, his lips already swollen, chest heaving. His eyes met yours, dark and clouded with desire, and he looked like he was ready to devour you.

"Do you really... mean it? You'd let me make a baby with you?"

You couldn't help but laugh at the hesitant tone of his voice, at how cute it was that he was still checking for confirmation. "I'll say it as many times as you need to hear it. Yes, Jisung. I want a baby with you. I want you to put a baby in me."

His eyes lit up, his cheeks flushing bright pink, and for a second he almost looked innocent. But the way his hands tugged impatiently at your shirt and his eyes raked hungrily over your body was anything but.

"So what are we waiting for, then?" he said, his voice low.

You grinned, letting him pull the shirt over your head and toss it carelessly to the floor. "Absolutely nothing."

Jisung's hands were everywhere, his lips tracing hot kisses along the column of your neck as he backed you into the bedroom. Your legs hit the edge of the bed, and he was on top of you in an instant, his hands grasping at your thighs. His hands spread out on the underside of your thighs, lifting them up so he could position himself between them.

The way his hands moved over your body was possessive, almost primal, his eyes dark and hooded as they locked onto yours. He ground his hips into yours, and the hard bulge of his cock pressing into you had you biting back a moan.

"You want this?" he whispered, his voice dripping with desire.

"God, yes," you breathed, tugging at his shirt. "Want you, Jisung."

He leaned back just long enough to strip off his shirt, tossing it aside. "So fucking sexy," he murmured, his hands slipping up your bare thighs. "You're the only one I want. The only one I ever want to put a baby in."

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, and with a swift tug, they were gone, discarded somewhere in the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Your breath caught in your throat, and he paused, his eyes roaming hungrily over your bare body.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his hands coming up to squeeze at your breasts. "The things you do to me."

"Show me," you whispered, reaching out to stroke him through his boxers. "Show me how much you want this, baby."

He hissed at the contact, his hips jerking into your hand. "Y/N," he groaned, his voice thick with lust. "I'm gonna- gonna fuck a baby into you."

The words went straight to your core, and you couldn't stop the whimper that slipped past your lips. He was so close, his warm breath fanning across your face, his hands already roaming over your body. He reached between your legs, his fingers ghosting over your wet folds, and a soft moan escaped him.

"Look how wet you are, baby. So wet for me," he murmured, his finger sliding through your slick folds and circling around your clit. "How long was I keeping you waiting for this?"

You let out a gasp as he slid a finger into you, your walls clenching around him. "All week," you breathed, hips bucking involuntarily as he pumped his finger in and out.

He smirked, his thumb rubbing slow circles over your clit as his finger curled inside you. "Mm, poor baby," he cooed. "You've been so needy for my cock, haven't you?"

"God, yes," you whimpered, arching into his touch.

"So impatient," he teased, adding a second finger and pumping faster. "You want me to fill you up, don't you? To fuck you until you can't take it anymore?"

You moaned, his dirty words only heightening your arousal. He curled his fingers inside you, and you writhed, his name falling from your lips. "Yes, yes, please, Ji, I need-"

He leaned in, his voice a husky whisper. "Tell me what you need, baby."

"Your cock," you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders. "Want your cock, Ji, please."

His lips curled into a satisfied grin. "Anything for you, baby. Anything for the mother of my child."

The words sent a rush of heat through you, and he slid his fingers out of you, the ache of emptiness already setting in. You watched him strip off his boxers, the sight of his hard cock sending another wave of arousal through you.

He gripped the base, the head flushed and leaking with precum. "Tell me, Y/N. Tell me where you want my cum."

You spread your legs, his eyes fixated on the glistening folds between them. "Inside me," you breathed, the ache becoming unbearable. "Please, Ji, I want it all."

He stroked himself, his thumb swiping over the head and spreading the precum. "Mm, so good, baby," he groaned, his free hand grasping at your thigh and guiding your legs apart.

"Need you," you whined, your walls clenching around nothing.

"You'll have me," he promised, lining himself up with your entrance. He rubbed the head along your folds, and you moaned, his name spilling from your lips.

"Jisung, please," you begged, hips bucking as you tried to press him deeper.

"Tell me how bad you want it," he whispered, teasing your entrance with the head. "Tell me how bad you want a little Han Jisung."

"So bad," you moaned, your hands grasping at his back. "Please, Ji, give me everything. Fill me up, put a baby in me, please, I'm-"

The rest of your words dissolved into a cry as he slid inside you, his thick cock stretching your walls. He groaned, his fingers digging into your hips as he thrust in, bottoming out in one swift movement.

"So fucking tight," he hissed, his head falling forward as he took a moment to collect himself.

"So big," you whimpered, shifting beneath him and feeling the fullness.

"And all yours," he murmured, starting to move inside you. He rocked his hips into yours, burying himself deep inside you with every thrust. His cock dragged against your walls, hitting just the right spot to make your toes curl.

"Ji," you moaned, nails digging into his skin as you clung to him. "God, I love you."

"Love you, too," he breathed, his voice strained. His rhythm was relentless, his thrusts quick and deep, the sounds of your pleasure mingling together.

Your hips rose to meet his, and his hands gripped your thighs, pushing them apart even further. "So beautiful," he muttered, his eyes fixated on the way you clenched around him.

He leaned forward, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss. He swallowed your moans, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth as his cock slammed into you. You arched off the bed, a high-pitched cry escaping your lips. His mouth trailed along your jaw, sucking a mark into your skin.

Suddenly he took your hand in his and pressed on your lower stomach, pushing down hard as his thrusts grew more frantic.

"Feel that, baby? Feel my cock in you?" he growled. "Can you feel the way it stretches you, the way it fills you up? That's me putting a baby in you."

You couldn't form any coherent words, your cries rising in pitch as the pressure built inside you. You felt yourself start to unravel, your body shaking, his name tumbling from your lips. You couldn't hold back anymore, his words pushing you over the edge. Your walls clenched around him, pleasure surging through your body as he pounded into you. You cried out, waves of ecstasy washing over you as he fucked you through your orgasm.

He didn't slow down, his movements becoming more erratic, his grip on your thighs tightening. You were barely starting to come down when he buried himself deep inside you, a hoarse groan escaping his lips.

His hips jerked, his cock pulsing as he came. His cum filled you, warm and thick, his hips grinding against yours as his release spilled into you. His name fell from your lips again, a breathless sigh, and his thrusts slowed, his body shuddering above yours.

He stayed there for a moment, panting, his eyes half-lidded and his gaze hazy. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then to the corner of your mouth. You tilted your head up, capturing his lips in a soft kiss, and he melted into you.

You both lay there, tangled together, your breathing slowly evening out. He held you close, his hands stroking your hair. Your limbs were still tingling, your mind fuzzy.

After a few minutes of laying in each other's arms, he pulled away, and you felt the sudden emptiness, his cum dripping out of you. His eyes widened at the sight.

"Did- Did I do that? I'm sorry," he muttered, reaching for a tissue.

You couldn't help but laugh softly at his panic. "It's okay, baby. I told you to."

He blushed, his ears reddening again. "Oh, right. Still... sorry, I'm a little out of it."

You giggled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "You did good."

He looked down, his gaze soft and his lips curving into a shy smile. "I'm glad," he murmured, cleaning you both up before laying back down beside you.

You curled up in his arms, and his fingers trailed over your skin, gentle and soothing. He pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder.

His eyes fluttered shut, and he leaned into your touch. "We should... do it again. When I'm not so tired," he murmured.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Felix :

It was a peaceful night. The kind where the whole world feels like it’s settled into a comfortable, lazy rhythm. You and Felix were lying in bed, cuddled up under the blankets, the soft hum of the night settling around you both. His hand was gently resting on your waist, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back.

But despite the calm, there was something on your mind, something you hadn’t been able to shake for the last few days. Baby fever.

Not just baby fever, but the idea of him leaving any kind of indication that he was yours on you. Love bites, marks, bites, anything.

And it wasn’t like you were planning on having a baby tomorrow (you were still young, after all), but the thought had been growing, and now you couldn’t stop it. Felix had always been someone you pictured with kids, with his soft smile, his playful personality, and the way he always seemed so gentle and caring.

You would always think of how your kid would inherit his traits, his eyes, his freckles, his smile. Maybe the baby would have his characteristics too.

You shifted slightly, turning over to face him, your body pressing a little closer to his. Felix looked down at you with a soft, sleepy smile, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes were still filled with the warmth of the moment, not yet aware of the direction your thoughts were heading.

Felix hummed, and you took a deep breath, staring up at him with a mixture of hesitation and boldness.

"Felix... Why don't you ever mark me up?" you asked suddenly, catching him off guard. His eyebrows furrowed, his gaze shifting from your face to your lips and back up again.

"Mark you?" he echoed, his deep voice scratching your ear, a mix of confusion and curiosity. "Like... how?"

You bit your lip, trying to keep your composure as your pulse picked up speed. "You know... like... with your teeth, your lips, something... I dunno. Sometimes, I just want to feel... marked."

Felix blinked in surprise. His hand paused mid-air as if he was considering your words carefully, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Is... that something you'd want me to do?" he asked in a soft, almost timid tone, his accent adding a cute layer to his question, looking down at you as if trying to read your expression.

You nodded slowly, a small, teasing smile curling at the edges of your lips. "Yeah... I kind of want that."

Before you could continue, Felix’s lips descended on your neck, his teeth already gently nipping at the sensitive skin. You gasped softly, your hands immediately tangling into his hair. He was submissive in the way he was responding, eagerly giving you exactly what you’d asked for. His lips were warm against your skin, trailing soft kisses along your collarbone, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

Felix pulled back slightly, breathing heavily against your neck, his lips still brushing against your skin. His voice was hushed, almost reverent. "Is this what you wanted?" he whispered, his hands resting on your sides, gently guiding you closer.

You nodded again, but this time, your fingers didn’t stop at his hair. You slid them down his back, pulling him closer, your breath catching as you tried to find the words.

"I..." You faltered, trying to figure out what exactly you wanted him to do, what you needed him to do, but nothing seemed right. You didn't want him to stop, and you couldn't think of a better way to ask him for what you really wanted.

Felix was looking at you with those beautiful eyes of his, and the thought flashed through your head, and you blurted it out before you could change your mind. "I also... have been thinking about kids, lately. Not- not just in general. But with you, specifically."

His eyes widened slightly, and his blush deepened. A deep noise escaped him, and then he smiled, the same gentle, loving smile he'd always given you. He didn't say anything, though, but his hands shifted lower on your waist, a silent reassurance that he'd heard what you'd said, and he understood.

Felix's lips returned to your neck, kissing a path down the column of your throat. "When would you want that?" he murmured, and the way his words were muffled by your skin sent a pleasant tingle through your body.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure and speak through the haze. "Someday, someday. But not anytime soon. I just want... you to know that I think about it, sometimes. And I think you would be an amazing dad."

He paused, his lips resting on your shoulder. Then, a small smile curled his lips. He leaned in and kissed you softly, and you could taste the smile on his lips. "I think about that too," he murmured, his voice so soft and vulnerable that you couldn't help but melt against him.

"Do you want to know what else I think about?" he whispered, his breath warm on your cheek. "What else I've been thinking about?"

You shivered, closing your eyes and leaning closer to him. You nodded, biting your lip and trying not to look as excited as you were.

He smiled against your lips, a small laugh escaping him. "I've been thinking about this," he breathed, and then he pressed his hips forward, his half-hard length rubbing against your inner thigh. "And this," he continued, sliding his hands down to grip your ass. "And this," he continued, slipping his fingers under your underwear, stroking along the curve of your butt.

His hands slipped underneath your shirt, running up the length of your stomach and cupping your breasts, gently squeezing.

Your heart pounded against his chest, and your hands slid down his back, slipping inside the waistband of his boxers. He sucked in a sharp breath when your fingertips brushed against his ass. You squeezed him gently, a low hum vibrating from the base of your throat.

"Mmm... and you too," you replied, arching your back slightly and pressing your chest further into his hands. "I think about the way your fingers feel, the way you kiss me, the way you hold me."

"And what do you think about, when I hold you like this?" he whispered, his hands moving lower, his fingers dancing along your thighs. "When I touch you like this?"

He moved his hands down, gently parting your thighs, his fingers tracing along the sensitive skin between your legs. Your breath caught, and you let out a soft moan, your hands sliding up to clutch his shoulders.

"I think about the way you're gonna make me feel. And I can't wait until the day that I'm carrying your child," you answered, biting your lip and squeezing your thighs together.

Felix's hands stilled, and he stared down at you, his eyes dark with desire.

"God," he groaned, and the sound was so raw, so desperate, that it sent a rush of heat straight to your core. His eyes flicked down to your lips, his fingers moving up and tracing circles over the sensitive spot above your entrance.

You whined, trying not to move and press your hips into his touch. He chuckled, his fingers circling lazily. "And how long have you been thinking about that, huh? What made you bring it up?" he asked, his voice husky.

"Mmm..." you sighed, arching your back and squeezing his shoulder. "Maybe... a week? Or two? But I can't get the thought out of my head."

His breath hitched, his fingers slowing, and then stopping.

"A week," he echoed, his eyes fixed on yours, his lips parted slightly. "You've been thinking about this for a week."

You nodded, trying not to squirm under his intense stare.

"Yeah. I... I think it would be a great thing to have with you."

He was silent for a moment, his gaze flickering down to your mouth, then back up to your eyes. His lips curled up into a mischievous smirk, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Then why don't we start practicing?" he suggested, his voice low and seductive, sending a wave of heat through your body.

You let out a shaky breath, nodding quickly. He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your neck, before pulling back and grabbing the hem of your shirt, slowly lifting it over your head. He tossed it to the floor, his hands running up the smooth planes of your stomach, cupping your breasts.

You reached for the bottom of his shirt, tugging it over his head, before sliding your hands up his chest. He smiled, his hands returning to your hips, and pulling you flush against his chest.

"So you want me to mark you up? Bite and scratch and claim you?" he asked, his lips brushing over the skin of your throat.

"Yes," you gasped, tilting your head to the side and giving him more access to your neck.

He let his teeth scrape lightly over the side of your neck.

"You want me to leave my mark all over your body?" he continued, his voice low and husky.

"Mmmhmm," you moaned, clutching his shoulders and pulling him closer.

"You want me to fuck a baby into you?" he growled, his teeth grazing your earlobe.

You shivered, your hips rolling against his. "Yes," you breathed. "Yes, god, please. Do it."

Felix chuckled, his hands moving down to squeeze your ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.

"Okay then, anything for you, princess," he purred, the tone in his voice changing to a sweeter one, his lips trailing down to the hollow of your throat.

You let out a moan as his teeth scraped over the sensitive skin of your collarbone. He nipped lightly at your neck, his tongue flicking over the skin. His lips trailed lower, his mouth latching onto the swell of your breast. He bit down lightly, a sharp intake of breath escaping you. His tongue traced over the small red mark left by his teeth, soothing the skin.

You whined, pushing your hips against his, trying to create some friction. He smirked, his fingers digging into the plump flesh of your ass.

"Patience," he chided, his tongue swiping over the mark again.

"Oh, I'm so patient," you breathed, arching your back.

Felix chuckled, his tongue lapping over the mark once more, before he moved down, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses down the valley between your breasts. He stopped when he reached the bottom of the valley, his hands moving up to cup your breasts, kneading the soft flesh.

His thumbs rubbed circles around your nipples, the tips of his fingers tweaking them, his eyes watching the way your body reacted. You arched into his touch, his hands feeling like fire on your skin, the rough calluses sending delicious sparks of electricity through you. It felt like his mouth was hitting every right spot, the combination making your head spin. Taking his time to make sure they really left a dark mark on you.

Felix let go of one breast, his hand trailing down your stomach, his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your panties. His fingers circled around the apex of your thighs, his thumb rubbing light, teasing circles over your clit.

You gasped, your hands grabbing at the sheets beneath you, trying to steady yourself. He laughed softly, his mouth pressing hot, wet kisses over the sensitive skin of your stomach. His fingers moved lower, stroking between your folds.

"So wet already, baby," he purred, his tongue flicking out over your hip bone.

"Please, Felix," you begged, your body aching for his touch, his closeness, his warmth.

"What do you want, princess? Tell me," he coaxed, his voice low and smooth.

"I want you to make me come," you pleaded, rolling your hips against his fingers.

Felix hummed, his eyes hooded and filled with lust, his fingers still working between your legs.

"You want to come for me?" he teased, his voice dropping even lower.

"Yes, please," you whimpered, the muscles in your thighs beginning to tense.

"You wanna come on my cock?" he rasped, his free hand moving up to squeeze your breast.

"Yes," you moaned, throwing your head back and closing your eyes.

Felix pulled away suddenly, his hands leaving your body, the sudden absence of his warmth making you whine.

"How about you help me get ready for you, baby?" he suggested, a hint of a challenge in his tone.

You immediately sat up, reaching down and yanking his boxers off, his thick cock springing free, standing proudly, the tip flushed red and leaking precum.

You grabbed his length, pumping him a few times, before licking a long stripe up his shaft, swirling your tongue around the head.

Felix moaned, his hands tangling into your hair, his hips rolling up, his cock pressing against the roof of your mouth.

You sucked lightly, your hand stroking his length, his hips bucking up to meet you. He groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head.

You bobbed your head, taking his cock deeper, your tongue swirling around his tip. You took him in until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. He let out a deep groan, his hands tugging at your hair, his hips thrusting forward, his cock sinking deeper.

You hollowed your cheeks, sucking hard, his head thrown back in pleasure, his grip on your hair tightening. You swirled your tongue around the tip, his hips rocking up, his cock hitting the back of your throat, his fingers twisting in your hair.

You made sure to wet the entire length of him, wanting to ensure that he could slide in with ease, even though he was already incredibly hard. He groaned, his hips jerking forward, his cock bumping against the back of your throat, his eyes meeting yours.

"You ready?" he breathed, his voice husky and dripping with desire.

You nodded, swallowing him down once more before letting go of him, pulling back and licking your lips. He groaned, his hand tightening in your hair.

"Good job, beautiful," he purred, pulling you up and guiding you over his lap, his lips descending on yours, his tongue swiping over your bottom lip. You moaned, parting your lips and allowing his tongue to slip inside.

His hand slid between your legs, his fingers slipping between your folds, teasing you, his thumb pressing against your clit. You whimpered, grinding down on his fingers, his hand moving lower, his thumb rubbing circles over your entrance.

He pulled back, his lips trailing down your neck, his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin, his tongue flicking over the pulse point.

"Felix," you gasped, rolling your hips against his, the need for him growing.

He hummed, his fingers slowly easing into you, stretching you out, preparing you. You moaned, throwing your head back, his name slipping from your lips, his hand tightening on your hip.

"Do you think you can handle me now, baby?" he murmured, his breath tickling the side of your neck.

"Mmm, please," you pleaded, rocking against his hand.

Felix pulled his fingers out, placing them in his mouth and licking them clean, his eyes fixed on yours, he hummed in approval of the taste, making you shiver in anticipation. He grabbed your hips and pressed you against the bed, climbing on top of you and pressing you against the sheets. His lips descended on your neck, his tongue trailing across the skin, leaving hot, wet marks in their wake. His cock was resting against your hip, the thick, hot shaft twitching with the promise of release.

His mouth found your collarbone, his lips and teeth scraping against your skin, a soft moan escaping you, your body aching for more contact with him, your skin craving his warmth, the heat of his body pressing against yours.

"God, Felix," you breathed, your nails digging into his back, your legs wrapping around his waist, urging him forward.

He chuckled, his hips thrusting forward, the thick, hard head of his cock pressing against your entrance, before pushing into you, the feeling making your head spin.

He moaned, his forehead pressing against yours, his hands moving down your hips, squeezing your thighs.

"So tight, so good," he purred, his hips pulling back slightly before slamming forward, your head falling back as your body adjusted to the size of him. He began to thrust into you slowly, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease, the delicious friction of him moving in and out of you driving you crazy.

"Fuck, Felix, fuck," you cried out, your hips grinding up to meet his every thrust, your fingers digging into his shoulders. He grunted, his lips pressing against your throat, his breath hot against your skin.

He thrust faster, the head of his cock bumping against your g-spot, your nails digging into his skin as you clung to him, trying to stay grounded. Your head swam, your body shaking as his thrusts increased in speed, the pleasure of him moving inside you, filling you up making your mind foggy.

"You like that, huh?" he rasped, his thumb tracing over the tip of your clit, the pressure and the pleasure building.

You moaned, your eyes fluttering shut as your walls clenched around his shaft, your orgasm building inside of you already, the feeling making you want to scream out his name, the pleasure too overwhelming. He groaned, his fingers rubbing slow, teasing circles around your clit.

"Felix, please slow down," you whimpered, the amount of sensations driving you mad, your hips grinding up against him, desperate for release. He grunted, his thrusts slowing to a teasing pace, his thumb stroking over your clit, your orgasm so close it almost made your vision blurry.

You clung to him, his cock driving into you slowly, your legs wrapped around his waist, your heels digging into his ass. He moaned, his head resting on your shoulder, his hands squeezing your thighs as he moved inside you.

You let out a whimper as his thumb rubbed against your clit, the slow, agonizing friction making your body shudder, your walls tightening around him, the pressure almost too much to take.

He groaned, his hips jerking forward, his cock buried deep inside you, the heat of him making you squirm in anticipation, your walls clenching around him.

"Felix," you panted, the feeling of your impending orgasm making your head spin.

"Yes, princess," he hissed, his lips trailing up the length of your throat, his fingers tracing light patterns on your clit, his thrusts speeding up.

You cried out, your orgasm hitting you like a wave, the pressure building up until it exploded, your walls tightening around him, the delicious heat of him filling you up, your body shuddering as the waves of pleasure rolled over you. You let out a cry as you came hard, your toes curling as his thrusts grew frantic, his cock pulsating inside you as your body rocked with pleasure.

He thrust hard, the head of his cock bumping against your g-spot, your back arching off of the bed, your hands gripping at his back, the friction and heat driving you crazy.

"Oh fuck, Felix, fuck," you groaned, your voice coming out in a high-pitched whine, the pleasure coursing through you. He let out a grunt, his body tensing above yours as his hips stilled, his cock twitching deep inside you, his body shuddering with release.

"So good, baby, you feel so good," he gasped, his body collapsing against yours, his breathing heavy.

He kissed you deeply, his hand sliding into your hair, tugging lightly at the roots, the pleasure from your orgasm making your body tingle.

"You're so amazing, I love you so much," you mumbled, kissing him back, his lips feeling so warm and perfect against your own.

Felix let out a deep chuckle, his lips brushing against the side of your neck as he buried his face into your shoulder. "I love you too," he murmured, his words tickling your ear, his eyes darkening slightly, the heat from his gaze making you shiver. "How many rounds do you think you can handle tonight? Cause I don't plan on stopping for a while," he whispered, his words sending a spark of heat through you.

You smiled, your hand moving up to his neck and pulling him closer, his body still pressed against yours, your skin hot where it touched him, your heartbeat still hammering in your ears.

"You wanna practice that much?" you teased, your breath catching in your throat as you felt him move against you. "Because I wouldn't mind getting knocked up by you tonight."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Seungmin :

The gentle hum of your bedside fan filled the quiet room, mingling with the occasional creak of the floorboards beneath the shifting of your legs. You lay sprawled across your bed, scrolling aimlessly on your phone, though your mind was far from as idle as it seemed. It was one of those lazy afternoons when time stretched endlessly, wrapping you in a hazy cocoon of stillness. Yet, your thoughts were loud, brimming with a strange, newfound energy that had been bubbling up over the past few weeks.

It had started so subtly you almost didn’t notice. You’d catch yourself smiling a little too long at videos of babies giggling uncontrollably or rubbing your thumb over pictures of toddlers in oversized hats like they were some kind of magic talisman. The turning point came when you saw Seungmin with your niece last month. She’d toppled onto her knees in the grass during a family outing, and while you were mid-step to help her, Seungmin beat you there. He knelt beside her, gently brushing dirt from her hands while playfully poking her chubby cheeks to make her laugh. That softness in his eyes, the one he tried so hard to mask behind his sarcastic jabs, lit something within you.

You couldn’t unsee it after that. It wasn’t just how easily he got your niece to smile or how patient he was when she tugged at his hair. It was the tiny glimpse of what life could look like if it wasn’t just the two of you anymore. And while you’d always been on the same page about your future: sweet, simple, and child-free, the idea of bringing a tiny, giggling extension of your love into the world had begun to sneak into your daydreams.

Today, it was impossible to ignore. You’d been scrolling through more videos, babies in pumpkin costumes, toddlers waddling on chubby legs, when the thought crashed into you like a runaway train. It wasn’t just the soft glow of future possibilities that consumed you, it was something much deeper. You imagined his hands on your hips, the warmth of his body pressed to yours, the thought of him letting go of his usual care and filling you completely, nothing between you. The thought had your skin tingling and your heart racing. Seungmin was always so careful, always the responsible one, but you were ready to be reckless. For once, you wanted to see what would happen if he gave in.

"Seungmin!" you called out, your voice cutting through the stillness like a spark in dry grass.

There was a shuffle from the living room, followed by his characteristic faux-annoyed sigh. You could already imagine him rolling his eyes, though you knew better than anyone how much he loved being needed, even if he’d never admit it.

"What now?" he asked as he appeared in the doorway, his voice dripping with exaggerated exasperation. A towel was slung over his shoulder, his dark hair slightly damp, curling at the ends from a recent shower. He raised an eyebrow at you, the corners of his lips twitching as though he was fighting a grin.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, unable to hide your smile. “I need you.”

“That’s new,” he quipped, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. “Last time I checked, you were perfectly capable of surviving an afternoon without me. What changed? Did you finally realize how boring life is without me?”

“You wish,” you shot back, rolling your eyes, though your cheeks betrayed you with a flush of pink. His playful teasing never failed to make your heart flutter. He smirked, pushing off the doorframe to walk closer, he perched on the edge of the bed, poking your cheek lightly with his finger. “So, what is it this time? Did you get stuck in a Reel rabbit hole again and need me to pull you out? Or are you about to ask me to refill your water bottle because you’re too lazy to move?”

You grabbed his hand to stop the poking, holding it for a moment longer than necessary. “Seungmin,” you said softly, your voice suddenly losing its teasing edge.

He cocked his head slightly, his eyes searching your face. Something faltered in his gaze as you pulled his hand to your lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it. A small shudder ran through him, his breath hitching slightly.

His lips parted slightly, a soft exhale escaping him as you turned his hand over, brushing your lips against his palm. You glanced up at him through your lashes, watching his throat bob as he swallowed hard.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice lower now, his free hand brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “What’s going on with you?”

Your response came in the form of a slow tug, guiding him closer as you sat up fully. His knees bumped against the bed as you leaned into him, your fingers trailing along his wrist. “Nothing’s going on,” you murmured, though the way your other hand found the hem of his shirt betrayed the truth. “I just… missed you.”

He blinked, his brow furrowing slightly, as though he wasn’t entirely sure where this sudden shift was coming from. But there was something in the softness of your tone and the heat in your gaze that made him pause. “Missed me?” he echoed, his lips quirking, though the teasing lilt was softer this time. “We’ve been in the same apartment all day.”

You hummed, your fingers slipping beneath the fabric of his shirt, brushing over the firm planes of his abdomen. His breath hitched again, and this time, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a firm yet measured grip. “Alright, what’s this really about?” he asked, his tone sharper now but not unkind. “You’re acting different.”

“Am I?” you asked innocently, leaning in closer so your lips nearly brushed his. The proximity made his jaw clench, and you couldn’t help the small, satisfied smile that tugged at your lips.

“You are,” he replied, his grip tightening ever so slightly around your wrist. His dark eyes bore into yours, flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. “What are you hiding?”

You tilted your head, your lips curving into a playful smirk as you leaned up, brushing the tip of your nose against his. “Maybe I just wanted you, Seungmin. Maybe I called you in here because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Something in his expression faltered, his gaze shifting slightly.

You took his hesitation as an opening, slipping your hand out of his grasp, moving it slowly to his thigh.

His breath caught, a soft noise escaping him as your fingertips brushed the inside of his leg. Your other hand snaked up his chest, finding his shoulder, pulling him closer. His hands twitched, as though he was resisting the urge to touch you. You were certain he was about to protest again, and that was when you decided to take things a step further.

In one fluid motion, you climbed onto his lap, straddling him, your arms snaking around his neck. His eyes were looking up at you as if he was anticipating your next move, his hands gripping your hips reflexively, his body tensing.

You leaned into him, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to the side of his neck, the way you knew always made him melt.

The tension in his shoulders released, a low sigh escaping him. You smiled at his little reactions, brushing your lips along his collarbone. His breath hitched, a soft noise of contentment escaping him. You continued, dragging your teeth over his skin, biting gently, earning another low sound from him. You nipped harder, sucking on the sensitive flesh.

Seungmin shuddered beneath you, his head falling back, his Adam's apple bobbing as a soft moan escaped his parted lips. You smiled, satisfied with his reactions as you rolled your hips into his, feeling his clothed length pressing into the thin fabric of your shorts, making the wetness already pooled in your pants grow.

Seungmin gripped your waist tighter, his fingers digging into your skin. Your heart raced, desire burning through you, making the space between your thighs ache. You rocked against him again, feeling his hardness throb. The heat building in his body was unmistakable, and it only spurred you on. You wanted to hear his sounds of pleasure, his breathless pleas, his sweet promises of love, and most importantly, the sound he'd make, spilling himself inside you.

The thought alone sent a shudder of pleasure through you, the ache between your thighs growing more insistent. Seungmin was always the type to plan ahead, the type who wouldn't dream of taking such a huge risk, and part of you felt guilty for longing for something like this on your own, but the way his cock twitched as you rocked against him made your worries dissipate.

Your lips met his, kissing him hard and needy. Your tongue slipped into his mouth, earning a low moan from him. One hand gripped your hip tighter, the other sliding up your back, pulling you closer. He kissed back eagerly, his teeth grazing your lip, nipping, sucking. It was the type of kiss that made the room spin.

Seungmin pulled away, his chest heaving, a string of saliva connecting his bottom lip to yours. His hair somehow already looked disheveled, and his pupils were blown wide. He opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it, reaching down and pressing your palm to his straining erection.

"Seungmin," you whispered, leaning forward, letting the words slip past your lips like honey. "I need it so bad. I can't stop thinking about how good it'd feel if you came inside me. Please, Minnie. Fuck a baby into me."

He blinked, his brows raising, his mouth dropping open slightly. It was as though his brain was buffering, unable to process the words coming out of your mouth. "Wait... wha— wait-"

You didn't let him finish, pulling the hem of his boxers down, revealing his throbbing, dripping length. He was rock hard, the tip leaking pre-cum, twitching under the heat of your gaze.

"C-Came inside..?" He said, still lost on the last thing you said, the words jumbling together, the meaning slipping away, "I- Inside? You want- what?"

The confused but aroused look on his face only made you burn hotter, a deep yearning spreading through your core. You wrapped a hand around his base, pumping him slowly, making him gasp. "Please," you said softly, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his cock. "Fill me up, Seungmin. I've been thinking about it all week."

Seungmin made a strained sound, his brows pinching together, his hips bucking slightly. He was always super safe and responsible when it came to sex, never going a single step beyond what he knew you were comfortable with, but now you were asking for something he'd never expect. And a part of him really wanted to give it to you.

"Wait, wait, wait," he said, his tone a mixture of concern and disbelief. He pulled back slightly, his hands gripping your hips more tightly. "I can't just- I can't, we can't," he said quickly, the words spilling out as his brain struggled to catch up. "We can't just go raw. What if you get pregnant? I can't put you through that. We need to use a condom, or- or something. I don't know, a pill, or- or, I'll pull out."

His being worried for you was cute, a reaction you expected, but you never missed the way his cock twitched at the suggestion of him fucking a baby into you, his cock throbbing, making your heart race, wanting to see how far you could push him.

"Seungmin," you whined, leaning into him, nipping at his earlobe. "Please. You'd be such a great dad, hm? I promise we'll work it out, but for now, I need you inside me."

Seungmin gasped, his cock throbbing again, his cheeks burning a deep shade of crimson. "Y-you can't just- You can't just say things like that," he stuttered, his hands twitching.

You got up, removing your pants and underwear. "Tell me, do you want it?" Seungmin's eyes followed you as you stripped, his gaze drifting down, drinking in the sight of you. He bit his lip, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. "Do I want-? Of course, I want it," he blurted, his eyes flickering up to yours. "I mean, if it's something you're serious about, then-"

"That's all I needed to hear," you said, climbing back onto the bed and straddling him again, the warmth of your center pressing against his bare, slick length. His words alone had a flood of heat rushing through you, your walls aching with need.

Seungmin sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering shut. "Oh god, y-you're so-"

You ground your hips into him, rubbing his shaft along your folds, the friction sending waves of pleasure through your body. You moaned softly, the slickness of your walls coating his cock, the tip brushing over your swollen bud, making you gasp. Seungmin's hips bucked, a low groan escaping him. He grabbed the backs of your thighs, holding you steady, his eyes flickering up to meet yours.

"You're sure about this, right?" he asked, his tone serious despite his flushed cheeks. "I mean, It's so sudden and... I'm not saying I'm against it but-"

You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his in a desperate kiss, silencing his rambling. You cupped his face, kissing him harder, deeper. He shuddered, his hips twitching.

When you pulled away, his eyes were wide, his lips parted.

"Are you going to keep talking or are you going to fuck a baby into me, Kim Seungmin?"

Seungmin inhaled sharply, his hands finding your hips. His gaze was piercing, burning into yours. For a moment, you wondered if you'd pushed him too far. But then his lips were crashing into yours, kissing you hungrily. His tongue slipped into your mouth, his teeth catching on your lower lip, biting hard enough to make your lip bleed. He trailed his lips down your jaw, peppering hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, stopping at the sensitive spot right beneath your ear.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging lightly, making him moan. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch of you. His fingertips left trails of fire along your skin, the sensation heightened by the knowledge that this was the most uncontrolled you'd ever seen him. He wasn't taking his time, or being gentle and careful like he always was. This was raw and desperate.

Seungmin's tongue traced a hot line down the hollow of your throat, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers, his cock grinding against your folds, the slickness making the friction delicious.

You moaned, arching your back, pushing into his touch. You wanted more, needed him closer, needed his bare skin on yours. He seemed to read your mind, his hands moving to the hem of his shirt. He paused, pulling back just enough to tug it off. The sight of his body made the heat in your stomach flare, and his skin was always so smooth and lean.

He tossed his shirt aside, his eyes meeting yours, his cheeks flushed. "This is- this is what you want, right?" he asked, his voice wavering slightly. "Me, like this. No condom, nothing?"

You nodded, biting your lip. Seungmin swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "Alright," he breathed, his gaze flickering down, lingering on the way your hardened nipples pressed against the fabric of your shirt. "Then get on your back."

You did as you were told, shifting off his lap to lie down, propping yourself up on your elbows. Seungmin moved closer, settling between your legs. You watched as he gripped the base of his cock, positioning himself at your entrance. His other hand found yours, lacing your fingers together.

You could feel the heat of his body radiating through you, the anticipation making you shiver. This position was so foreign to you, the one where you could see his face, his eyes filled with so much tenderness, his hair hanging in his face. It was as if a different side of him was peeking through, a softer, more intimate side.

Seungmin's hips shifted, and then his length was sinking into you, inch by inch. He groaned, his head falling back. The feeling of him stretching your walls, filling you completely made your toes curl, a low moan escaping you.

Seungmin stilled, his hands gripping yours tightly. His chest rose and fell heavily, his breath ragged. Your eyes met his, and you watched as a flurry of emotions flashed across his features. It was as if he was struggling to process the moment.

"Seungmin," you whimpered, squeezing his hand.

His eyes snapped back to yours, his lips parting, the softest gasp escaping him. You watched as his brows pinched together, the muscles in his jaw flexing, his gaze flickering down to where your bodies connected.

"Shit," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're so- Fuck. I can feel everything."

You moaned softly, the sound turning into a whine as he slowly dragged his cock along your walls. Seungmin's head fell forward, his dark locks hanging in his face.

"You feel so good," he murmured, his eyes meeting yours. There was something different about the way he looked at you, his gaze burning into yours. You shuddered, a soft cry escaping you as his hips rolled, the sensation making you dizzy. His hands released yours, moving to grip your waist, his thumbs pressing into your skin, hard enough to bruise.

You whimpered, your hands tangling in the sheets. The sight of him losing control made your core throb. He was always so calm and collected, so careful and meticulous, but seeing him like this, so desperate and needy, was something you didn't even know you wanted until now.

Seungmin's lips pressed into a thin line, his hips snapping, his cock driving deeper, filling you completely. Your walls clenched around him, making him groan.

"Fuck," he cursed, his brows knitting together, his grip on your waist tightening.

You could feel the familiar knot building in your stomach, your legs trembling. You reached up, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His body covered yours, his lips finding your neck, kissing, biting, sucking. He marked every inch of you, his lips leaving trails of fire along your skin, his hips pounding into you, filling you to the hilt.

You could feel him throbbing, the tension in his body growing. You clung to him, the pressure in your core reaching its peak. Seungmin's breath was hot against your ear, his hands sliding down your sides, his fingertips digging into your hips.

You moaned, the sound coming out more like a whimper. "M-min," you stuttered, his name coming out as a broken plea. "I'm gonna- I'm- oh, god, Seungmin. Don't stop. I need-"

Seungmin's hand snaked between your bodies, his thumb finding your swollen clit. He circled the bundle of nerves with slow, deliberate strokes, drawing a sharp cry from you.

"Come for me," he breathed, his voice husky and strained.

The sound of his voice sent you over the edge, and a wave of white-hot pleasure crashed through you. Your walls clenched around him, your back arching. Your vision went white, stars dancing behind your eyelids. You cried out, the sound echoing through the room.

Seungmin swore under his breath, his hips slamming into yours. The force of his thrusts pushed you up the bed, his fingers digging into your skin, holding you in place.

You could feel his body tense, his muscles contracting, the heat of his skin searing into yours.

Your heart pounded, the world around you spinning, his name a mantra on your lips. He was still moving inside you, the sensation drawing out your orgasm, pushing you higher.

And then his hips stuttered, his rhythm faltering, his movements becoming erratic.

"F-fuck," he cursed, his voice a low growl, his body trembling. You could feel him twitch, his cock pulsing inside you. You tightened your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

His head dropped, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes were screwed shut, his jaw clenched. His breath was hot on your face, his hair sticking to his sweat-slicked forehead.

"I- inside. Come inside me, Seungmin."

"Y/N," he choked out, his body shuddering.

Your walls clenched around him, drawing another low groan from him. He came hard, his cock throbbing, spilling himself deep inside you. The sensation made your vision blur, the heat spreading through your body, making the world go fuzzy.

You could feel him fill you up, completely, his seed spilling from you, the thick, sticky substance coating your thighs, mixing with the slickness of your arousal.

The sensation made your head spin, a fresh wave of pleasure washing over you. Your walls clenched around him, milking him, coaxing every last drop from him.

He gasped, his hips jerking, his cock twitching inside you. You felt his body tremble, his arms giving out. He collapsed onto you, his chest heaving, his head buried in the crook of your neck.

His body was warm and heavy, his breathing ragged, his pulse hammering in his throat. Your limbs were weak, the exhaustion settling into you.

You stayed like that for a while, his breath tickling your skin, the afterglow leaving you blissed out. When he finally pulled out, the sensation drew a soft whimper from you, his seed spilling out of you, pooling on the sheets.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his lips brushing your temple.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice hoarse, tears prickling the sides of his eyes. "A lot"

The tenderness in his words made your heart swell, and you curled into his side, burying your face in his chest.

"Don't get all sappy on me now, Seungmin," you teased, though your voice was softer than usual. You knew if he cried you would cry harder.

Seungmin sighed, his fingers threading through your hair. "Who's getting sappy?" he mumbled, his words muffled.

Your hand slid up his back, tracing lazy patterns along his spine. "The one who's tearing up after he came inside of me."

"I'm not- I'm not tearing up," he insisted, though his voice wavered, betraying his emotions. "I'm just... it's just a lot. Like, a lot a lot."

You hummed, kissing the corner of his mouth, smiling gently. "I know, Min. I love you too."

Seungmin let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

"Hey, um..." he started, his brows furrowing, "about what you said before, about wanting a baby. Was that- were you serious?"

"Well, I wasn't trying to pressure you," you said, running your hand through his hair, tucking a stray lock behind his ear. "But... yeah, I've been thinking about it a lot lately. And I think it'd be nice, don't you?"

Seungmin hummed thoughtfully, his gaze drifting to the side. "Yeah, I mean... I do, but I also don't want to put any pressure on you, either. If we're going to do this, I want it to be because you really want it."

You smiled, cupping his cheek, your thumb brushing over his skin. "I really want it, Min. More than anything."

Seungmin nodded, his expression softening. "Okay. Then... okay. Let's do it."

Your heart swelled, and you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Thank you," you said, unable to hide the joy in your voice.

"I'll take care of everything, okay? I'll get us the best doctor, the best equipment, the best tests, the best vitamins, the best prenatal classes. We'll do it right. We'll be the best parents ever."

You suddenly felt laughter bubbling in your throat, and you had to bite your lip to keep it down.

"What?" Seungmin asked, scanning your face.

"Nothing," you said, shaking your head. "You're just cute, that's all."

Seungmin made a face and shook his head, and you could tell he was embarrassed.

"Come on, let's get in the shower," you said, getting off the bed.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

I.N :

You’re lying on the couch, scrolling through your phone with Jeongin lounging beside you. You’re trying to stay productive, but your attention keeps drifting. Your thumb swipes aimlessly, until you find yourself trapped in the vortex of cute baby pictures.

It starts with a baby panda video that you think is adorable, and before you know it, your Instagram feed is flooded with baby photos: panda babies, human babies, and then you find a whole thread of pictures of Jeongin as a little kid.

Your heart melts instantly. The sight of Jeongin, chubby-cheeked and smiling awkwardly at the camera, makes you feel an overwhelming urge to scoop up every baby in sight. It’s like an instinctual surge of affection, one that hits you straight in the ovaries.

“Oh my god,” you mumble, entranced by the photo of a younger Jeongin sitting on a swing, his eyes wide with excitement. He’s so adorable.

Jeongin glances over, leaning his head against your shoulder. “What’s going on?” he asks, noticing the soft sigh escaping your lips.

“These baby pictures of you… they’re just… too much,” you whisper, as if you’ve discovered a treasure trove. Your thumb scrolls past picture after picture.

Jeongin peeks at your phone, blinking rapidly when he sees what you're looking at. "Wait, that’s me..." he says, his voice a little flustered.

"Yeah," you say, your voice soft but teasing, "You were such a little cutie. I can just imagine you as a dad- gonna be the most adorable dad ever."

Jeongin chuckles nervously. “I-I’m sure I was cute, but, uh, I’m still getting the hang of being an adult.”

You glance down at him, smiling mischievously. Your fingers hover over the screen. "Yeah, well, you know… I kind of want a baby. Like… now."

Jeongin freezes, his wide eyes blinking a few times as he processes your words. “A… baby?” he asks slowly, the confusion clear on his face. He’s not sure whether you’re joking or if you’ve truly caught baby fever.

You nod, your expression sweet but undeniably serious. “Yeah. I mean, just imagine it- us, with a little baby. We’d be such great parents, don’t you think?” You look down at him, noticing the way his face goes from confused to completely overwhelmed.

Jeongin starts laughing nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, I… wow, uh, okay. This is a lot to take in right now.”

You giggle softly at his reaction, feeling a little bolder now that you've gotten under his skin. “Maybe we should practice,” you say, your voice dropping into a teasing whisper.

Jeongin’s eyes go wide, his entire face lighting up as his brain tries to process what you just said. “P-practice?” he stammers, his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. "Oh... OH."

His eyes widen even more as the realization finally hits him. He glances at you for confirmation, but you’re already leaning in, a playful smile curling at the edges of your lips. He lets out a nervous laugh, unsure whether to laugh or blush harder.

"Uh, I-I mean, if we’re practicing... do we need a lesson or something?" he stumbles over his words, his hand sliding up to scratch his head in confusion. "Wait, what kind of practice are we talking about? I- oh my god, what am I saying?”

You start giggling uncontrollably at his adorable reaction, trying to hold back the fit of laughter that’s bubbling inside you. “I was talking about practice in, you know, the practice... for the baby," you say, your hand trailing on the side of his face.

Jeongin, now completely flustered, stumbles backwards, almost falling off the couch. “Oh my god,” he mutters under his breath. “I did not expect that.”

You snuggle up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face into his chest, your giggles subsiding into soft laughs. Jeongin shifts nervously, still trying to figure out how to respond.

“Alright, alright,” he says after a few moments of silence, leaning in to kiss the top of your head. “We can practice. But I’m not promising anything.” He pauses, giving you a playful side-eye. “But, um, I think I’m gonna need a lot of practice…”

“Oh, you definitely will,” you tease, feeling giddy from his adorably shy reaction. You glance at him and grin. “Good thing I’m such a good teacher.”

Jeongin blushes even more, his face a deep shade of red now, but there’s a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Well, I guess if we're practicing…” he starts, trailing off as he leans in for a kiss.

The kiss is slow and tender at first, but as the heat between you builds, you find yourself leaning closer, pressing your body against his. His hands slip under your shirt, sliding up your sides and sending shivers down your spine. Your lips part slightly, and the kiss deepens, the heat intensifying.

He breaks the kiss, looking down at you with a dazed smile. His breathing is heavy and his cheeks are flushed. He reaches down and tugs on the hem of your shirt, and you lift it over your head, letting it fall to the floor.

Jeongin stares down at you, his gaze roaming over every inch of your exposed skin. His fingers graze across your stomach, making goosebumps appear along your skin. He pulls you closer, pressing his lips against your neck. You moan softly, arching your back.

You reach down and slide his shirt over his head, your hands moving over his chest and stomach. He moans as you run your nails lightly over his skin, his breathing becoming heavier.

You look up at him, meeting his gaze, and the fire in his eyes burns bright. You lean forward, placing a kiss on his collarbone. Jeongin groans and pulls you close, his hands sliding up your back and cupping your breasts. You gasp and lean into his touch, arching your back as his lips find yours once more.

The kiss is filled with passion and heat, the two of you becoming lost in the moment. You run your hands down his sides, letting your fingers graze over his abs. He groans into the kiss and you press yourself against him, grinding your hips against his. He breaks the kiss, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

He pulls away slightly, and you can see the hunger in his eyes, the desire written all over his face. His hands roam over your body, exploring every curve, every inch of bare skin. He trails his fingers along your stomach, teasing your navel before sliding lower.

You suck in a breath as he brushes his fingers over the edge of your pants, and his lips curl into a smirk. He leans in, kissing the spot right below your ear. You bite your lip, trying not to make a sound, but his touch makes it impossible. He presses his lips to your neck, and you tilt your head, giving him better access.

He trails kisses along your collarbone and down your chest, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin. You're amazed at his ability to multitask, your pants somehow already lost on the floor somewhere, as he works his magic with his hands and mouth.

His fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties, teasing the soft, sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. You let out a gasp as his finger grazes against your clit, and he chuckles softly, his breath hot against your ear.

"You like that?" he whispers, his voice low and husky.

"Yes," you breathe, your eyes half-closed. "So much..."

He slides a finger inside you, his thumb brushing over your clit. You moan, your hips bucking involuntarily, and he adds another finger. He pumps his fingers slowly, teasingly, his thumb circling your clit.

Your breaths come faster and harder as he picks up the pace, his fingers curling inside you. You whimper and squirm, and he pulls back, grinning cutely, a complete contrast to his actions.

"Not yet," he murmurs, his lips ghosting over yours.

"Jeongin, please," you beg, your voice strained.

"Would you rather take my fingers, or me?" he asks, his breath tickling your ear.

You shiver and press your body closer, his skin hot against yours. "You," you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He grins and removes his hand from your underwear, tugging them off. He unbuckles his belt, and you help him, both of you working frantically to get him out of his jeans. Once they're gone, he pulls you onto his lap, your legs straddling his hips. He leans in, capturing your lips with his, and you kiss him hungrily, desperate for him.

You reach down, grasping his length and guiding him towards your entrance. You sink down onto him, a sigh escaping your lips. He fills you completely, stretching you just the right amount, and you rock your hips slowly, adjusting to his size.

Jeongin groans and grips your hips, guiding you as you move against him. You move faster, rolling your hips, and he thrusts upwards, his fingers digging into your skin.

You moan and arch your back, leaning into his touch. He leans forward, capturing a nipple between his lips. He swirls his tongue around it, and you whimper, throwing your head back.

Jeongin continues to thrust up into you, and you ride him, taking him deeper and deeper. He releases your nipple and leans forward, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

You grab his hand, leading it to lay lightly around your neck as it it's an accessory, a necklace. "Please," you whisper.

He smiles against your lips, tightening his grip ever so slightly. "So, you want this?"

"Mmm hmmm," you murmur, biting your bottom lip. "Use me like you always do."

He smiles, leaning in and nipping your earlobe. "Such a slut," he purrs, his breath hot on your skin.

He flips you to lay on the couch, so he can push you into the couch with his hand wrapped around your neck, making sure you're comfortable.

You nod eagerly, and he tightens his grip, thrusting deep inside you. You cry out, wrapping your legs around his waist. He pounds into you, his eyes never leaving yours, and the pressure around your neck builds.

Your body is on fire, every nerve ending exploding with pleasure, and you know you won't last long. He feels so good, his thick cock hitting all the right spots, and his hand on your neck is driving you crazy.

You moan loudly, and he smirks, quickening his pace. You feel the familiar pressure building inside you, and you cry out, begging him to fuck you harder.

"Yes," he groans, his eyes darkening with lust. "You like that, don't you?"

"Yes, please," you gasp, arching your back. He grunts and pounds into you, his fingers tightening around your neck.

The pressure is almost too much to bear, and you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the sensation. Your orgasm crashes through you, and you cry out, shuddering underneath him.

He groans, his thrusts growing more erratic, and he releases inside you, burying himself to the hilt. You're panting and gasping, your body limp.

Jeongin releases his grip on your neck, and you take a deep breath, a soft smile playing on your lips. He smiles back, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

"I love you," he murmurs.

"I love you too," you reply, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down for another kiss.

Jeongin lays next to you, and the two of you snuggle up close together. You can't keep the smile off your face, and he chuckles, nuzzling your neck.

"When are we getting married?" he asks, his face still buried in your neck.

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"Both," he laughs, lifting his head and gazing into your eyes.

"You have to propose," you giggle.

"What if I said, 'I'm asking you?'"

"Well, in that case, I'd say yes."

taglist for my babies : @loverbangchan, @reignessance, @imperfectlyperfectprincess1, @armystay89, @ihrtlix, @jiyeonslays, @lovestaysblogs, @jeyelleohe, @celebration88, @honeyybbuubblleess

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